


Comfort Zone

by bukkunkun



Series: The Player's Adventures in Offland [13]
Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Crush, Blood and Gore, First Kiss, Fluff, Interrogation, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, One-Sided Relationship, Other, Rough Sex, Storytelling, Trains, Tsunderes, Violence, Vore, guardians fic yessssss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of meeting the Batter and purifying the land, the Player is paired off with Dedan to help run Zone 1. With the additional hands helping him, Dedan becomes less of an asshole, although he still has bouts of screaming rage when faced with incompetent Elsen. His Player doesn't rise to his rage, keeps him calm, and generally helps keep the stress from killing Dedan earlier than natural.</p><p>Dedan eventually comes to rely on his Player (even though he won't admit it; pride thing) and when the Player abruptly vanishes one day, Dedan says 'fuck that noise' and goes out to find them and remind them of where they belong and who they belong to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt on jerkin_off. Posted hurriedly, because it's like, dawn here damn guys

  _You have been assigned to a being called “Dedan”._

_Dedan has an important mission. Be sure that it’s accomplished._

_We will let you out in Zone 1. Good luck._

_For more information, talk to the other guardians, or find the one called “The Queen”._

When Dedan first met his assigned Player, he had thought to himself if this was some cruel joke on him or the like that the Queen and the other Guardians played on him. Blinking in shock down at the person that looked not too different from all the Elsen scuttling about if fear of him, he frowned and pointed a long finger into their face.

“ _You’re_ my Player?” he growled at them, “You tiny little shit?”

“Yes,” his Player smiled—fucking _smiled_!—at him, clasping their hands behind their back. “And I think you’re my Dedan?”

“I’m not anyone’s, you got that?” Dedan snapped at them, turning around to face away from them, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Goddamnit, I ask for extra hands and _this_ is what I get? Shit resources, I’m going to bitch so hard at the Queen for this…”

The Player cleared their throat, and Dedan halted in his movements against his will. The Guardian’s eyes widened and by some other force he turned around to face his Player again, and they were still smiling at him.

“Look, I may not be what you’re expecting—”

“You’re not,” Dedan cut in, but they shook their head.

“But just give me a try, okay? And anyway, no matter what, I’m still your Player and you’re still my Dedan, no matter what happens. You’re stuck with me, pal.” They grinned, giving him a thumbs-up, but Dedan rolled his eyes, and resisting a weak hold on him, stormed away. He heard his Player sigh behind him, and follow suit.

“Did I tell you to follow me, punk?” he snapped at them, turning around abruptly, but they didn’t anticipate that and bumped right into him. “Ugh, get off me.”

His Player pulled themselves off Dedan, pouting up at him. “Hey, would it kill you to at least lighten up? And besides, what idjit would leave his Player behind in a world like this?”

Dedan scoffed. “Clearly, then, you haven’t met me.”

His Player sighed, shaking their head—

And suddenly spectres came into the area, the Elsens that had been shuffling around them hastily running away, breathlessly screaming in fear as the spectres approached Dedan and the Player.

“Damn it, not again,” the Guardian grumbled, making a move to attack—only to find that he couldn’t, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get his hands to move on their own. His eyes widened and he turned to look at his Player, who was intently staring into space, their brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to yell at them before they beat him to it.

“Minute Hand.” The Player stated, and Dedan’s eyes widened. That was one of his Competences! How could they have known that?

“Minute Hand, Dedan, _right now_!” they yelled, and without him thinking it, his body obeyed and he swept his hands around the area, the Competence hitting one of the spectres hard and defeating it.

Dedan stared back at his Player. They were _controlling_ him, telling him his every move, like a puppeteer to their puppet.

Well, damned if he liked that, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Chewing out the Player can wait for later.

“Attack that Arpagon!” they ordered, and he charged forward, punching the Spectre and sending it into non-existence. He grumbled under his breath in annoyance. The Player, he had to admit, _was_ good at this.

Damn it.

His Player was smiling at him throughout the fight, and when he had finished off all the Spectres, they came up to him, still smiling brightly. “Good job, Dedan.” they chuckled, but Dedan scowled at them and stalked away. His Player smiled at him fondly, chuckling, before following suit.

This time around, Dedan didn’t say a word.

* * *

He had to admit that having the Player around made his job a whole lot easier than it should be. He could concentrate on segregating the jobs among the Elsen and it would be the Player who would spot the Spectres for him and call him there and tell him what to do while he thought nothing about the fight and more about the paperwork he had left behind on his desk as the Player controlled his body to however they deemed fit to get rid of the Spectres as fast and as efficient as they could.

Then it came to the time when he had noticed that the incidents of Burnt Elsen had significantly decreased. He was so surprised he threw the papers at the trembling Elsen in front of him and yelled at them for doing a shit job at collecting the statistics, but then his Player stepped into his office (and no, the office most certainly did _not_ look brighter than before), pouting and telling him off, hugging the Elsen to themselves to calm him down while they made Dedan smack himself with his own hand.

“Very mature, Player.” He drawled, but they sighed and shook their head, before turning their attention to the Elsen.

“Hey, it’s okay, you did a great job, and you’re so good at it, so keep your chin up, okay, baby?” they cooed at the Elsen, who smiled shyly, a grey blush spreading across his white cheeks and they nodded.

“Th-thank you, hhhhh… Director Player…” he rasped, before embarrassedly ducking away from the Player and excusing himself and exiting the room.

Dedan was scowling when the Player looked back at him.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded, lifting his feet onto his table as he crossed his arms.

“That, Dedan, was called positive motivation.” His Player replied calmly, flicking their wrist, and at once Dedan’s feet removed themselves from the table and planted firmly onto the ground. The Guardian glared at his Player, who, used at his glares, only smiled at him, clicking their tongue. “You’re yelling at them too much, why do you think they’re so scared of you? If they’re stressed out that bad, you know what’ll happen.”

Dedan scoffed, “Well, that was for nothing, Player. For some reason there’s lesser incidents now.”

His Player smiled knowingly, and he stared at them, wide-eyed.

“ _You_.” He breathed, and his Player nodded, chuckling.

“Yep, me. I take care of the little buggers. They work better now, don’t they?” they smiled, shrugging, and Dedan scowled at them. “C’mon, just a little thank-you, at least? Good job?”

Dedan grumbled something out, and his Player cocked his head. “Dedan?”

“I said, ‘good job,’ you little shit!” he yelled at them, and the Player’s eyes widened for a moment, before their expression of surprise melted into warm mirth and their shoulders began to shake, and not long after that they began to laugh, loudly, and brightly, and all Dedan could do was stare at his Player in confusion.

“What is it?” he demanded, but his Player shook their head, and kept laughing.

Dedan watched on, confused. He had seen so much different emotions before: rage, fear, despair, and the like, but never something like _this_.

It is such a secret place, the land of happiness, yet it seemed that his Player had no trouble finding it.

In the back of his mind, Dedan wondered what happiness felt like, and he realised that his Player had calmed down and was now gently smiling at him.

“What?” he snapped, fighting to keep the stutter out of his voice, but his Player noticed it anyway, but did not speak of it.

“Thank you, Dedan.” They gently said, and something dead inside of Dedan began to stir to life as warmth slowly began to seep into the stone-cold cracks of the Guardian’s soul.

His Player turned to leave, and as the door shut, they failed to notice a small upward quirk that had appeared in the corner of Dedan’s mouth.

* * *

He had come late to the tea party the Queen had called for because of an Elsen that had accidentally dropped a container of metal into a vat of meat. It took far too long to get the container out, that he had no time to screech at the Elsen.

Yes, of course, that was the reason why he hadn’t been that harsh on that particular poor bastard, not because he knew his Player would be upset that he had chewed out an Elsen again.

As he entered the room, he heard his Player’s voice animatedly talking to Enoch, their voice peppered with giggles and laughter as the large man offered them plate after plate of cake and pudding and some other confectionary saturated with sugar.

Then he heard it—Japhet’s voice speaking up.

“Dear Player, you spend almost all your time by Dedan’s side—does he not bother you?” the bird asked, pecking at his dish of tea, ignoring Hugo (who was sitting on his mother’s lap) grasping onto his tail feathers in curiosity. “He’s got a most awful temper, and he lashes out on all he talks to.”

“Oh, even us,” Enoch sighed, before taking another bit of cake. “Is he treating you well, Player? Or would you like to spend time with us too?”

Dedan frowned at his fellow Guardian’s words, but he knew they rang true. He was about to turn away and leave—the Queen’s orders be damned—when he heard his Player speak up.

“Oh, no, he doesn’t bother me at all.” His Player replied, “If anything, I think it’s _me_ who’s bothering him. You see, he’s just really stressed out with his work, that’s why he’s so cranky, but really, I’m sure he’s really nice. A softie.”

“Oh?” the Queen spoke up, “Have you pierced our diamond’s hard ore shell?”

“Your Majesty,” his Player laughed, “No, no, he is a dear friend of mine. I truly like Dedan—he’s a great guy, I’m sure, and besides, these days he has started calming down. He’s not yelling that much any more, and I think he’s handling the stress better now.” They chuckled, “That’s why I’m so ready to help him however I can.”

“That’s so selfless of you, dear Player,” Japhet commented, and the rustle of feathers told Dedan that the bird was probably attempting to pat his Player’s head.

Their bright laughter confirmed his thoughts.

It was probably time to show himself.

Clearing his throat, Dedan caught the attention of all those at the table (save for Hugo, who was now playing with the Player’s hand) and he nodded at each of them silently before taking a seat next to his Player.

They smiled up at him, and his eyes widened slightly. They had known he was there the entire time— _of course_ , he thought to himself, his Player saw all that he did.

“It’s so nice to see you, Dedan,” the Queen greeted, and he nodded at her, but then his eyes widened when he felt a hand slip into his. He looked to his side, where his Player was avoiding his gaze, but there was a smile on their face.

Dedan fought the creeping quirk in his lips, but he couldn’t help feel his insides warm up and feel like they were floating.

There, he thought, as he sipped at tea, _this_ was probably happiness—this warm, strange feeling inside him, and the feeling of his Player’s hand in his.

Yes, it probably is.

His Player was probably his happiness—his serendipity, if you will.

Dedan sighed into his cup, and missed the secret smile the Queen was smiling at him.

For the first time in a long time, at last, Dedan decided that he felt happy.


	2. A Beauty and their Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Player and Dedan grow ever closer. Oh, dear.

Or, perhaps, Dedan spoke too soon when he said he was happy.

A cave-in in the mine had completely derailed his good mood when he had come to learn of numerous deaths in the mines and the sudden spike in the amount of active Spectres in his Zone.

Cursing loudly to himself, he slammed his fist on his desk, making the trembling Elsen in front of him jolt and squeak in fear.

“Get out!” he growled at the Elsen, who quickly nodded and scurried out of the room in blind panic. “Goddamnit, I knew this happiness shit was trippy as fuck.” He shook his head and stood up from his seat—just as his Player entered the room, hands wiping at their eyes as they shuffled into the room.

And at that small gesture, all thoughts of anger swept from Dedan’s mind, even for that brief moment, and he fell still as his Player, clearly not minding him, slowly trudged up to the desk, turned around and sat down on top of it, their back facing Dedan. They let out a sigh, and then a choked sniffle escaped their lips.

The two stayed silent the entire time, and the Player kept reaching up to their face, hidden from Dedan’s view, to wipe at their cheeks and eyes.

It was then, at the fifth time they did that, did Dedan decided to speak up.

“Player.” He simply stated, as softly as he could manage, and his Player immediately stiffened up, jolting in shock that they had completely ignored the fact that Dedan was in the room.

“O-oh, God, I’m so sorry,” they stammered, getting up and off the table, hastily turning around to look for a seat elsewhere to sit, and there, Dedan saw it—tear tracks running down his Player’s cheeks. He sighed, shaking his head, before grabbing his Player’s wrist and pulling them onto his own swiveling chair, shrugging out of his coat and dropping it on them unceremoniously. They pulled Dedan’s coat off their head and blinked up at him with wide eyes filled with tears they have yet to shed, clutching it close to themselves like a shock blanket. “Dedan?” they asked meekly.

“If those shit Elsen dying upset you so much, you don’t hide that shit from me, goddamnit.” He mumbled at them, before turning to leave. “Cry your eyes out here, and when you’re done, I’ll be outside with full competence and we are going to kick some ass.”

Gruffly, he strode out of his office, and slammed the door shut, leaving behind his Player staring after him in shock, but then their expression melted into a sad smile and they began to cry anew, this time hugging Dedan’s coat close to themselves as they wept for all the dead Elsen.

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, after he had seen off the delivery of all the dead bodies to Zone 3, Dedan felt a tug at his shirt, and he turned around to see his Player meekly smiling up at him, dressed in his coat that was much too big for them. It sagged against their body, the ends touching the ground and the sleeves were way past their hands, but somehow Dedan didn’t care as he simply held his hand out.

His Player chuckled and pulled his coat off and handed it back to him.

“You know, you could have gone ahead to take care of the Spectres yourself.” They quietly told him, as he pulled his coat on, before turning around with a flourish.

“You’re my Player,” he simply replied.

 _I rely on you,_ was left hanging in the air but the both of them heard it clearly as if it had been said. A sad smile crossed his Player’s face and they nodded, jogging forward to catch up with Dedan as he began to stride away.

“My Dedan,” they replied, nodding, and they threaded their hand into Dedan’s large one.

He didn’t say anything, despite all the pairs of Elsen eyes looking at them as they descended into the mines together.

* * *

They had eventually finished off all the Spectres that came from the cave-in, and the two had managed to return to Dedan’s office just as time-out came for the Elsen. As they ascended the elevator, many an Elsen came in and out, weakly greeting their superiors and thanking them for a job well done, the Player accepting their thanks with a gracious smile and Dedan with an indifferent expression.

Soon they reached his office, and with a long, tired sigh, Dedan sat down heavily on his chair, the Player more quietly sitting on the table again.

“What a day,” they commented, and Dedan replied with a noncommittal grunt. “There were almost thirty Elsen dead.” They breathed, and their shoulders began to sag again, their back slumping down in their obvious depression. “So many of them died in the cave-in…”

“Mourning won’t bring them back, Player.” Dedan spoke up, and his Player looked at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression on their face, before sighing, and nodding as they relented, sighing, and  resting their chin on their hands.

“You worked hard today.” They said instead, and Dedan nodded vaguely. “Especially in the mines. You must be beat.”

“Bitch, I might be,” he replied, rolling his eyes—but then he winced as he felt a crick in his back, his body straightening up in response, a groan escaping his throat at the sudden pain as his hand shot up to touch the area with the stabbing pain.

“Oh, got a crick in your neck?” his Player said, jumping down from his desk, “Turn around, I can fix that.”

“What the hell?” he grumbled, but did so anyway—whatever his Player wanted with him, they could get anyway, retaliation or not, because his Player had full control over his body. (No, he never would obey them willingly unless absolutely necessary, no, not at all… but sometimes, maybe he could, without question.)

His Player’s smaller hands rested on his shoulders and their thumbs dug down into his knotted-up muscle, slowly kneading them with even pressure as they relaxed it, untangling knots and cricks in them.

Dedan’s eyes widened and without warning he melted into his Player’s touch as they massaged his shoulders, ridding them of all the knots he had accumulated in them over time.

“Feel better?” his Player chuckled, and Dedan peered down at them.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, and they chuckled, and the two of them fell silent again as the Player helped Dedan relax into his seat.

They stayed like that for a while, until Dedan spoke up again.

“How about you?” he asked, and his Player’s eyes widened, and welled up with tears.

“I’m fine,” they replied evenly, as tears ran down again their cheeks, and suddenly, much to their surprise, Dedan reached behind him and caught a teardrop with his finger.

“You’re not.” He sternly replied, “Sleep it off, dipshit,” he said, pulling away (surprisingly gently) from his Player’s hands and standing up, taking their shoulders and leading them to the elevator, punching in the number of their floor (which had only one room—their room) and pushing his Player in. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He said, as the doors slid close, cutting off any argument his Player had.

In the elevator, the Player blinked at the closed doors, before laughing weakly, shaking their head as they wiped their eyes of tears.

“I will, you big dummy,” they mumbled, “So you _do_ care.”

* * *

“Player, that thing you did yesterday,” Dedan spoke up that afternoon as he and the Player pored over paperwork in his office, “Do it again later this evening.”

“Oh, sorry, I can’t,” his Player replied, lowering the reports they had been staring at for the past half-hour. “I have something I should be doing.”

Dedan scowled and lowered his own sheet of paper he had also been staring at for the past half-hour. “Aren’t you forgetting that you’re _my_ Player?”

“Yes, I know,” they replied coolly, “But because I’m your Player, that means I’m also the Director of this Zone, and I have a responsibility to it.” they crossed their arms. “I’m sorry, Dedan, but this is something really important.”

“It’s after-hours, Player, what the shit are you going to do after all the Elsen have gone into their dorms?”

His Player’s cool demeanour dropped, and a sheepish smile spread across their face. “… Ah, well… you see,” they struggled to think of what to say.

“Spill it, dipshit.”

His Player rolled their eyes. “Okay, fine. Every evening I go down to the Elsen dorms and tell them bedtime stories before they go to bed.” They confessed, and Dedan’s eyes widened as he gaped at them.

“ _What_?” he snapped and they held their hands up defensively.

“It helps them go to sleep and relax,” they explained, “And haven’t you noticed? A good-night’s sleep makes an Elsen work better in the morning.”

Dedan _had_ to admit that aside from the cave-in, there hadn’t been much damage reports filed in. The Elsen _are_ working better, and he had to admit, his Player _was_ good at what they were doing… whatever it was.

“… Also, Enoch is coming over.”

There, Dedan’s eyes widened again. “Enoch?” he echoed, and his Player nodded.

“Yeah, I had told him about storytelling to the Elsen and its effects last tea party and he wanted to see how it was done, so he could do it in his Zone as well. Japhet says he wasn’t much for storytelling—he had the library in his Zone to do that—but he _did_ support what I said about relaxing the Elsen, so Enoch’s convinced and he’s coming here tonight to help me tell a story.” His Player shrugged.

There was something boiling inside Dedan, but he didn’t know what. He hadn’t felt anything like it before, and he did _not_ like it—hated it, in fact, just like how he hated the idea of knowing that Enoch was coming over to spend time with his Player.

“I’m coming too, then.” He declared, and his Player blinked at him.

“Uh, what?”

“I’ll come along. Later this evening.” He gruffly told his Player, “No more questions, damn it.”

“… Okay,” his Player grinned, shaking their head before tuning their attention back to the papers, as they chuckled quietly to themselves.

It was cute that Dedan was jealous, they thought.

* * *

That evening, as expected, Enoch came lumbering into the building, looking a little too tired, but he had a wide smile on his face as he saw the Player waiting for him at the lobby of the building. The smile disappeared, though, when he saw Dedan standing beside them, a scowl on his face.

“I didn’t know Dedan came along with story time,” he told the Player, who, laughing, shook their head as they shook his hand.

“No, he, um,” his Player peered at Dedan, who was resolutely _not_ looking at them, and they chuckled, “He decided to come along, just for this evening. C’mon, the Elsen dorm is this way,” they smiled, gesturing for Enoch to enter the elevator with them. “Dedan?” they asked, but the Guardian rolled his eyes.

“See you there, dipshits,” he simply said, before teleporting away. The Player rolled their eyes fondly, before helping Enoch push himself in through the doors.

* * *

The Elsen gathered around the Player like they did every night, but much to their surprise, their Director and another Guardian was there too. Nervous, they huddled together, breathing heavily, but the Player, ever-smiling, assured them that it was going to be fine, and story-time was going to go on as it had always done. The Player gestured for Enoch to step up, and excitedly told him to follow their lead, as Dedan sat back in a chair at the back of the room, watching them with a frown on his face.

“So,” the Player smiled at the Elsen. “Let’s begin.”

“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a strong, handsome prince,” they began, and Enoch, clearly pleased with the start already, began to act the part, flexing his arms and (with difficulty) striding around the area the Elsen had left around them, finally causing small smiles to spread across the little men’s faces. “He lived in a big, big castle surrounded by servants.”

Dedan scoffed. How juvenile, he thought to himself, leaning back in his seat as he crossed his arms.

“But, you see, he wasn’t a very nice prince, and he would often yell and be very mean to his servants.” Enoch pulled faces at the Elsen, sometimes jumping at them, earning them squeals of panic that eventually turned to delight—it was story-time, after all, the Player would never harm them like this, and they trusted their Director Player fully. Dedan’s eyes widened at how calm and happy the Elsen looked despite Enoch’s (hardly threatening) lumbering around.

“One stormy night, an old beggar woman came to his house,” his Player continued, hunching over and approaching Enoch, who stopped, unsure on what to do next. “She begged him for a room, but he had refused.” The Player gestured at Enoch to _do something_ , and the man grinned at them brightly.

“Out with you!” he yelled at the Player, earning him looks of wonder from the Elsen around them. “No beggar women in my castle!”

“But you see, Elsen,” the Player told them, sweeping their hand dramatically over the wide-eyed Elsen and spinning around, straightening up before posing with a flourish. “The beggar woman was actually a powerful magical being!”

“Ooh,” chimed the Elsen, stars in their eyes, and even Dedan’s eyes widened. His Player certainly had a way with them.

“Angry with the Prince, she cursed him to turn into a beast,” they dramatically declared, and Enoch, clearly in the zone and having fun, began to pretend to convulse, kneeling onto the ground and choking dramatically. A grin spread across the Player’s face as they continued, “She, uh…” they paused, the Elsen holding their breath in anticipation. “Uh… made a rose out of…”

“Sugar,” Enoch prompted rather loudly, and the Player briskly nodded.

“Sugar,” they echoed, and the Elsen’s eyes filled with stars. “And told him that when the sugar rots,” it doesn’t, Enoch had whispered, but they waved his hand at him to hush him, “He will stay a beast forever.”

The Elsen gasped, and a smirk found its way to Dedan’s lips.

“Unless,” the Player held up a finger, “He finds someone who will truly love him despite all his flaws. But of course, that was near impossible, for who could ever love a beast?”

Dedan’s eyes widened, and suddenly he knew where this was going. He stared at his Player, mouth hanging open.

Who could ever love someone despite his flaws? That would be his Player.

A strange heat spread across Dedan’s face.

That would mean that _he_ was the beast.

* * *

And so the story continued, where the Player told of a lovely young lady out of her time, lived in a nearby village. She had wanted a lovely rose from her father, and in his search for it, he had accidentally stumbled into the beast’s castle. There he was forced to stay forever, but the girl begged for her to replace her father, so it was allowed.

The girl and the beast lived together for a while. She, at first, had been scared of him and his rather rough ways, but eventually, with patience and kindness, they grew closer with each passing day, until they had become into fast friends… and possibly something more.

By this time the Elsen looked rather sleepy, leaning onto each other with their eyes drooping, but fighting to stay open to find out what happens next. An Elsen had somehow fallen asleep and had leant back onto Dedan’s knees, fast asleep and half curled-up in sweet dreams.

The Guardian looked lost. He didn’t know what to do, and he waved his hand to catch his Player’s attention, before pointing at the Elsen sleeping on his knees.

The Player’s eyes widened in surprise—Dedan was actually handling the Elsen carefully, not jerking his knees to wake them up roughly, and a sweet smile spread across their face.

Enoch saw this and smiled as well, but didn’t speak up, and instead bade his good-bye and good-night to the Player before walking away to the elevator to go home.

“I think it’s time for bed, Elsen.” They announced, and with collective murmurs, they stood up collectively and began to shuffle away into their rooms. The Player walked over to Dedan, chuckling, and the Guardian glared at them.

“Fix it,” he demanded gruffly, but they shushed him with an index finger to their lips.

“Don’t be too loud, you’ll wake the Elsen up,” they chuckled, before leaning down to pick him up—

“I’ll do it,” he stopped them, and picked up the Elsen himself. His Player blinked at him for a moment, before chuckling fondly.

“C’mon, this way,” They gestured for him to follow them.

There were many eyes following them as they tucked the Elsen into bed, and many more following them after they left. Walking together alone back to the elevator, the Player was smiling all the way.

“Stop smiling, you little shit, it makes you look weird.”

“Sorry, it’s just that… I’m really happy you’re here with me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The Guardian snapped back, and his Player laughed.

“I mean it,” they pressed, “I think you’re relaxing better now,” they said, turning to face Dedan as they stood in front of the elevator. “Not letting the stress kill you early.”

Dedan scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re doing good, really,” his Player gently pressed, taking his large hands in theirs. “I’m really glad you’re happier now.”

 _Happy_. Yes, he was happy.

Dedan nodded vaguely, and shrugged. “… I guess.”

His Player chuckled, and slowly, he began to move forward, somehow growing bolder when they didn’t make a move away.

“Can I?” he asked, and they chuckled.

“It’s all I’m waiting for,” they replied, leaning forward too—

“Oh, hey, I think I left behind a necktie here—oh, goodness! I’m so sorry!” Enoch suddenly spoke up when the elevators opened, causing the two of them to stumble around in surprise and embarrassment, the Player laughing out loud to cover up their spluttering but their cheeks flaring bright red.

It suited them, Dedan thought to himself.

“S-sorry! Right, necktie!” his Player stammered, “C’mon, Enoch, this way, lemme help you go find that thing.”

The large man struggled out of the elevator, eyeing the both of them with amusement.

“Did I interrupt something?” he asked.

“Just get searching, lardass.” Dedan deadpanned, and, flustered, the Player grabbed Enoch’s large wrist to pull him along.

“G-good night, Dedan,” his Player stuttered, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” he greeted, turning to the elevator, not looking back as the doors slid shut behind him.

When it did, leaving him all alone, he finally let the stupid big smile spread across his face.

Happy.

Yeah, he was happy. So very happy.


	3. Stories of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like in Beauty and the Beast, something bad was bound to happen the moment Dedan let the Player free.

A heavy hand came to rest on top of the Player’s head first thing that morning, and a wide smile spread across their lips as they turned their head to look up at Dedan, who wasn’t looking at them but in the distance, but the tell-tale quirk in the corner of his mouth told them everything.

“Did that fatass find his necktie?” he asked.

“Yeah, he did. An Elsen had found it and gave it to us, bless him,” the Player smiled, picking Dedan’s hand off their head and held it instead in his hands.

“Okay.” The Guardian simply said, and did not pull his hand from his Player’s.

They smiled to themselves, before turning to pick up some papers in their inbox, the entire time not letting Dedan’s hand go.

They stayed in comfortable silence for the rest of the day, which was a rather slow one—the smoke outside swirled around like cotton candy clouds, the plastic looked serene, and metal and meat were rolling in quite well, today’s production unhindered by any accident whatsoever.

It was after a lunch of roast meat when they spoke to each other again.

“The Queen’s called for a tea party after this,” Dedan said, crossing his arms and leaning back as the Player finished off their meal.

“Oh, really?”

“It seems she heard about the progress we’re making here—and about that… activity you’ve been doing every evening.”

The Player giggled. “You make it sound so terrible, Dedan.”

The Guardian coughed into his fist, slightly flustered, but his Player laughed it off, leaning across the table to pat his hand reassuringly.

“Oh, don’t take it too personally,” they chuckled, “So we’re heading out to the Room after this?”

“Don’t rush, dipshit.” Dedan mumbled, turning his head to look outside, resolutely _not_ looking at his Player. They chuckled lightly and leant back in their seat.

“Did you like it?” they asked after a long moment of comfortable silence. “What Enoch and I presented yesterday?”

“It was… decent.” Dedan replied, still not looking at them. “Passable, fine.”

The Player shook their head fondly. “I’m going to have to work harder, then.”

“It’s the lardass’s fault,” he mumbled to himself, but the Player heard him, and their eyes widened in delighted surprise.

“Did you mean to say that I was doing well?”

“I didn’t say anything like that,” the Guardian snapped at them, earning him a sceptical smirk from his Player. “I mean it. But seriously, you could probably do better with someone else than _Enoch_.”

“Like you, perhaps?”

Here, Dedan spluttered on air, and he faced his Player, a scowl forced onto his face to hide his flustered state.

“Well, it’s not like there are many others to choose from.” His Player smiled sweetly, “Japhet doesn’t tell stories the way I do, the Queen is a very busy woman, and Hugo is too young to help me out.” They shrugged, “You’re the only logical option.”

Dedan flushed lightly and he turned his head away, crossing his arms with a huff. “Whatever,” he snapped, “So what if I can do it better than that fatass?”

“Well, you gotta prove that first,” his Player laughed, “Why don’t _you_ help me out later this evening? Enoch can watch from the sidelines instead.”

Dedan frowned at his Player. “I don’t _do_ fucking story-time.”

“You can learn, can’t you?” his Player asked, “And besides, you’ve got something to prove. If you don’t go, I’m going to have to ask Enoch to help me carry the story out to the end tonight…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Dedan cut in, and his Player laughed brightly behind their hand. “What, goddamnit, I said I’ll do it already.” He growled, but they shook their head.

“No, it’s just that,” they chuckled for a while, before forcing themselves to calm down again, “It’s so funny to see you all jealous and like.”

“I am _not_ jealous, damn it.” The Guardian replied, “Now are you done, dipshit? We have to get going. The portal to the Room is all the way in Alma.”

“I know, I know,” the Player chuckled, getting up from their seat. “And we both know how far away Alma is from Elsen village.” They nodded, before turning to head to the door. “Let’s get going, sourpuss.”

Dedan rolled his eyes, but followed suit, watching his Player thank the Elsen that had served them their lunch before walking outside.

* * *

They sat together alone on the train to Alma.

“How did it end?”

“How did what end?”’

“The story, dumbass.”

“Oh,” his Player chuckled, “Didn’t think you’d be the type to ask something like that.”

“I’ll be helping your ass later this evening, dipshit; I have to know what happens.” Dedan deadpanned, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he leant back in the seat. “Now tell me, goddamnit.”

His Player chuckled, shaking their head fondly. “Okay, fine. So the girl and the beast grow into fast friends and soon they realise they’re in love with each other.”

Dedan nodded, but he couldn’t help the image of him and his Player popping into his head.

“So his cursed servants decide to throw a romantic dinner for the two and they dance the night away in his castle’s ballroom, and that’s where he realises that as much as he loves the girl, he knows he shouldn’t keep her in the castle, so he sets her free, though he doesn’t want to.”

“That’s fucking dumb.” Dedan commented, and his Player laughed.

“It’s called love, Dedan.” They chided, tapping his shoulder lightly, before continuing, “He made her go back home to her village, where she discovers that the town had heard about the beast in his castle from her father, and she’s shocked to know that they had decided to storm the castle and kill the beast. One of her admirers led the attack, blind with how much he wanted the girl for himself, and so he didn’t listen to her no matter how hard she had begged for him not to kill the beast.”

“Bitch’s getting it coming right at him.” Dedan rolled his eyes. “Tell me his ass gets kicked.”

His Player chuckled, “In fact, yes, it does. Sorta.”

Dedan smirked. “Fucking knew it.”

“So, there he goes, charging into the fray, and he and the beast have a mighty duel, but eventually he defeats the guy, but not without getting a most terrible wound. He’s dying from it, and oh, by the way, that day was the day the sugar rose rots.”

“Goddamn this guy has shit happening to him left and right.”

“No kidding,” The Player laughed, “The girl sees him fall and she rushes over to him, devastated. She weeps over his dying body and there she tells him that she doesn’t want him to die, she doesn’t want him to go, because she loved him too, and there, because of that, the curse gets broken and the beast turns back into a prince and he marries the girl and they live happily ever after.”

“Damn.” Dedan frowned, “Would’ve been more interesting if the bastard died too.”

“But then it wouldn’t be a very good bedtime story for the Elsen, Dedan.”

The Guardian rolled his eyes. “So, okay. This evening, how exactly am I going to do this shit?”

“We’re doing it just the way Enoch and I did last night,” his Player replied simply, “You’ll play the beast and I’ll be the girl. Since we need an extra hand for the other guy, we’ll have Enoch do that.”

“Huh,” Dedan nodded absently, and they stayed silent until the message sunk in. “Wait, _I’m_ playing the beast guy?”

“Well, yeah. You _did_ say you were going to prove that you were better at this stuff than Enoch was.” His Player shrugged, “I’m sure it won’t be a big deal.”

“But then we’ll have to…” he fell silent, and his Player’s eyes widened in realisation, too, a small blush crossing their cheeks. “… Goddamnit.”

“W-we really don’t have to,” the Player stammered, flustered, “I mean, we just, uh, hug or something, I dunno—”

“But you said they got fucking married!”

“ _Dedan_!” his Player yelled, thoroughly flustered by now, their cheeks flared bright red, and he thought to himself, what a lovely colour it was on them. They lightly hit him on his shoulder. “Don’t say it like _that_!”

“Like what, damn it?” he growled back, and his Player shook their head exasperatedly, cupping their cheeks in their hands.

“Y-y’know! Fu-fucking…”

“ _Goddamnit_ Player! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant we were going to have to _kiss_!” Dedan yelled, “And I just—I don’t know, you didn’t have a fucking problem with it last night!”

The Player froze right then and there, and they had remembered what had happened between them in front of the elevator, before Enoch had popped in and interrupted them.

“… _Oh_.” They simply said, and Dedan’s eyes widened in realisation at what he had said.

“… Shit, I did _not_ just say that.”

“… You did.”

The Guardian slapped his forehead, and looked off to the side in embarrassment, and they stayed in awkward silence for another long while. It was the Player who broke the silence.

“… I still don’t have a problem with it, though.” They quietly spoke up, only barely audible over the rattling of the train outside, and Dedan’s eyes widened. He turned to look at his Player, who was still looking off to the side, still with that lovely blush on their cheeks, and now an embarrassed smile adorned their lips. “How about you?”

Dedan simply stared down at them, before slowly shaking his head. His Player laughed sheepishly before shyly looking up at him.

“… Wanna give it a try, then?” they asked, and slowly he nodded.

They were nice and slow about it, not in a rush as their heads moved closer together, and the Player’s soft lips touched his mouth. The kiss was chaste, a little sweet, but short, as the Player quickly pulled away, flustered.

A stupid grin crossed Dedan’s face uninhibited, and they smiled back.

“Just like Beauty and the Beast, huh,” they said, and he shook his head.

“You do the math, shithead,” he replied, heavily resting his hand on their head as the train jarred to a still. “We’re here. Let’s get going.”

The Player nodded at him and took his hand in theirs, lacing their fingers together as they walked out of the monorail to head to the portal to the Room.

* * *

“So nice of you to join us, Dedan, Player,” the Queen gracefully nodded, and in her lap, Hugo smiled brightly as he could and held up his small hands at the Player.

“Player! Player!” he called for them, and an affectionate smile crossed the Player’s face as they cooed lovingly at him.

“May I, Your Majesty?” they asked the Queen, and she smiled at them, nodding. They grinned down at Hugo and gently picked him up, hugging him close to themselves as they walked around the room, talking to him animatedly about anything the boy wanted.

Vader Eloha turned to address Dedan, who had sat down a seat away from her. “Oh? Why not sit at my side?”

“The Player will be there, my Queen,” he replied, “I think Hugo likes them a lot.”

“Oh, he does,” she chuckled, “In fact; it’s one of the reasons why I called for a tea party today.”

“Wow, Your Majesty?” the Player spoke up, walking over to them. Dedan pulled their seat back and they smiled at him thankfully before taking a seat, handing Hugo back to his mother. “What’s the matter?” they asked.

The Queen was smiling knowingly at Dedan’s mannerisms towards his Player, and the Guardian didn’t miss it, but he was grateful she didn’t say anything. “You see, my dear,” she told the Player, “I have heard from Japhet about your current endeavours with the Elsen. The story-telling?”

“Oh, yes,” the Player nodded, “I’ve told Enoch about it too. We’re doing it to boost their morale, Your Majesty.”

“An effort no doubt already reaping fruits,” the Queen nodded, smiling, “But that’s not what I’m asking of you, my dear.” The Player cocked their head. “You see, my dear Hugo here has been a little lonely lately, and I cannot tell him as fantastical stories as the ones I’ve heard from you,” she smiled, the boy in her lap nodding excitedly, “If you may, would you come over to the Room when you can and tell him a story or two? I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Oh, of course,” the Player smiled, “I just hope Hugo will like what I tell him.”

“Oh, he already likes you,” she smiled, “And if you could get someone like Dedan to, I’m sure he’ll even love you all the more.”

Dedan spluttered on his tea at her comment, but his Player and the Queen merely chuckled at his flustered actions.

“I’ll come over a while before the Elsen time-out, so I have time to come back and tell them stories too,” the Player declared, before turning to Dedan. “Uh, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“Do what you want,” the Guardian gruffly replied, and they smiled brightly at him.

“Thanks.” They softly told him, and at this the Queen’s smile widened.

“Oh, look, Japhet and Enoch have arrived. Let’s begin the tea party.”

* * *

“I’ll be back in time for story-time, promise.” The Player assured Dedan later that late afternoon, “I’m sure it won’t take long for Hugo to fall asleep.”

“You better make sure of that, you little shit.” Dedan grumbled, hastily taking a look around for a bit before retuning his attention to his Player. “Hurry your ass up, you got me?”

“I got you,” his Player laughed, which turned into a squeak of surprise when the Guardian leant forward and pressed their mouths together for another brief, chaste kiss. His Player melted slightly, and smiled at him, embarrassed. “Yeah… I’ll… I’ll be back soon.”

“You better.” Dedan replied, also flustered, and with a small wave and a shy smile, his Player waved at him and disappeared through the portal to the Room.

* * *

“… And they lived happily ever after.” The Player sighed, smiling as they watched Hugo sleeping soundly in his bed. Quietly they crept out of his room, past the Queen, who thanked them for their visit, before going through the portal back to Zone 1.

They arrived in Damien, and with a sigh, they began their journey to the train station to return to Alma.

It was already dark around, and there were only sparse lights lighting up the area as they walked past the barns, when they heard it—a low, growling noise that sent a chill up their spine and a splitting headache come to them.

“Ow,” they mumbled, clutching at their head as they walked onwards faster. It was probably a Spectre—if that was the case, they had better start _running_. Without Dedan, they were completely defenceless, and at the mercy of all the Spectres out there ready to gut them alive.

In their hurry they neglected to see a pothole in the ground and they tripped over it, falling to the ground, the air knocked out of their lungs.

There was a grating metal sound, suddenly, and it was right behind them. Fear gripped at them, and they dared turn their head around as a shadow fell on them.

Their eyes widened in shock at what they saw looming over them.

* * *

Dedan was pacing the lobby restlessly, Enoch watching him nervously as the two of them waited for the Player.

“Goddamnit, where _are_ they?” he growled, beating at the air, frustrated, causing Enoch to wince.

“Maybe Hugo took a while to fall asleep?” Enoch reasoned, but Dedan shook his head wildly.

“The Queen contacted me with her thanks for helping Hugo fall asleep an _hour_ ago.” He snapped, “Where is my Player?”

Enoch looked at the ground, frowning. He was worried for the Player, too. Where could they have gone?

BLAM.

The sudden loud noise made Enoch jolt and he saw that Dedan had punched the wall in frustration. “… Dedan?” he ventured.

“Fuck this, I’m going to go look for them.” He declared, turning on his heel and heading out the door.

“Wait! Dedan!”

“Just stay the fuck here and do something else, Enoch. They’re _my_ Player. _I’m_ the only one rightful enough to look for them.” Dedan growled, before storming out the door.

Enoch could only look on in dismay.

“Oh, Player, wherever could you be?” he asked, shaking his head, before turning to head into the elevator to tell the Elsen the bad news of not getting any stories tonight.


	4. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Player finds themselves in a predicament, and Dedan is burdened with a new mission.
> 
> Vader Eloha is somehow involved in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. I could have posted this earlier had the internet in the library not fucked up earlier than expected. Oh, well.
> 
> SO, OKAY, APPARENTLY THE WHODUNNIT WAS FUCKING OBVIOUS SO I HAD TO MAKE DO WITH A MOFFAT PLOT TWIST INSTEAD. ENJOY YOURSELVES.

Their head was splitting. Their world was spinning. Their stomach was turning.

There were warm hands at their arms and a voice calling them to consciousness, but it hurt, it hurt so much—it burned to even open their eyes. They weakly shook their head and shrunk away from the person, shivering wildly.

The Player tried remembering what had happened—they had seen some _thing_ back then, something with huge jaws and big, big eyes and claws, and _owwie this headache is killing me_ —

“Please, j-just, stop for a moment, I, I can’t,” the Player stammered, pulling away from the hands at their shoulders and held their head. “M-my head… hurts so much…”

Groaning, they curled up on the metal ground as they tried to remember what happened next after the monster.

They heard metal grating, yes, and there was the monster right there, towering over them…

_And then what?_

“Player, just _look at me_!” an unfamiliar voice pleaded them, “I’m begging you, please, the headache will go away if you just look at me!”

It took much effort, but at the promise of relief, the Player did the best they could and opened their eyes to look into two pairs of blood-red ones, slits for irises and looking all sorts of threatening and daunting, but there was only worry and concern in them.

How odd. Their eyes looked so alien and yet… so familiar. Why, the Player couldn’t remember, but their headache did abate slightly, and they relaxed in the mysterious four-eyed person’s arms.

Wait, since when had the man picked them up? Shakily, the Player raised their hands to grasp the man’s arm to ground themselves as they fought to keep their eyes open to see a man in a slightly bloodied baseball tunic and outfit, and a black cap on his head.

“What’s…?” they mumbled, but the man—another _human_! The Player suddenly realised, they weren’t the only human in this world, after all—suddenly hugged them close to himself.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he sighed, his embrace tightening on them, his hands balling into fists in their shirt. The Player’s eyes widened upon realising that the man was shaking. “I was so worried, I thought that they might have done something to you, I would never forgive myself ever if that happened,”

“Um,” the Player spoke up, “Wait,”

The man hastily nodded and pulled away from them. “Sorry,” he blurted out, “I got too carried away.” He turned his head to pick up a metal bat covered in scratches and dents and the like, and the Player realised that that was probably what they were hearing. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he stated, “Alpha, Omega and Epsilon are waiting at the entrance to the Nothingness.” He smiled at them, and it looked so painfully familiar to the Player but they couldn’t remember where they had seen that smile—or that man before. “They’ve missed you, too.”

“Wa-wait,” the Player stammered, as the man stood up, picking them up bridal-style. “Hold on,”

“Don’t worry, you’re not that heavy,” the man chuckled, before turning away, walking the way the Player came from their arrival at Damien.

“No! I-I mean,” the Player wiggled in the man’s arms, surprising him, so he lowered them onto their feet. “Look, I know you must have been really, really worried,”

“And I was; now we have to _go_ , Player—”

“But look, I think you’ve got the wrong person, I don’t think I’ve ever met you before.”

The man’s expression looked so crushed, and the Player couldn’t understand the crestfallen feeling that came over them.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” they pressed, “I have to go back now, my friends are waiting for me—”

“You don’t remember.” The man cut them off, and they froze, transfixed at the suddenly cold expression on the man’s face, yet his eyes clearly showed so much hurt that it was tearing the Player apart—and they _still_ didn’t know why.

“What is there to forget?” the Player asked, and the man gently lowered them onto the ground, cupping their cheeks in his hands. “Who _are_ you?”

“It’s me, the Batter,” he said, sighing. “I’m _your_ Batter, and you’re _my_ Player.”

The Player blinked at him, thoroughly confused, as their mouth hung open. “… I… I don’t…”

“You were assigned to me at the beginning of everything, of all this,” he gestured around them, “You were supposed to help me in my mission of purification.”

“Mission…?” the Player mumbled, as a headache began terrorising them anew. With a loud groan, they folded over as they clutched at their head, leaning heavily on the Batter as a memory resurfaced in their mind:

_“I…” the Player bit their lip. “I just wanted to tell you…”_

I can’t go home anymore.

_“I… I think that you’re the best friend I’ve ever had in a long while, and it’s been fun while I was with you.”_

_The Batter looked down at the Player, before eventually smiling, patting their head._

_“And I, with you. You’ve been the best, most helpful friend I’ve had.”_

_With that, he gave the Player a kind smile, his four eyes all open, as he gently grasped their wrist, and together they walked into the next hallway._

“Wh-what?” they gasped, their mind clearing and they gaped up at the Batter, confusion rampant in their mind. “I-I don’t understand, I’m… I’m dreaming of things I’ve never seen before—”

“You’re not dreaming,” the Batter insisted, “You’re _my_ Player, and all that happened between us really happened!” he held his left hand out, showing them a tattered plain plastic bandage on his left ring finger knuckle. “You gave me this,” he pressed, “Look in your pockets!”

The Player’s eyes widened—they had carried around with them the same kind of bandages. How could the Batter have one? They had two with them when they came into this game…

“That’s impossible! I have two of those in my pocket,” they told him, disbelieving, “Look, I’ll show you!”

They dug around in their pockets, and much to their shock, they pulled out only one.

“… What?” they breathed, and the Batter nodded.

“Isn’t that proof enough?” he sternly told them, before quickly picking them up again in a firmer carry, earning him a yell of protest from them. “We’ve got to go. _Now_.”

“Wait! You don’t understand! It’s probably a fluke or something!” they protested, as the Batter carried them away from the station. “I’m assigned to Dedan! You’re making a mistake!”

“I don’t think so,” the Batter murmured to them, reaching behind him to press at a pressure point at the Player’s neck. “I’m so sorry, but I have to do this.”

“Do what—hey, wait!”

He pressed down, hard, and the Player fell unconscious.

The Batter’s expression hardened and he walked onwards to the red cube leading him into the Nothingness. 

“Vader Eloha will pay for what she did to you, I promise,” he told the unconscious Player angrily as he accessed the cube’s portal controls. “And I’ll start with that Dedan.” 

The transporter took them away just as the train from Alma arrived at Damien. 

\--- 

“Where are you, you little shit Player?” Dedan roared into the air the moment he stepped off the train, trembling with anger as he stormed outside, spreading his arms to turn all the lights on, flooding the entire area with light. “You said you’d be back soon, you’re a fucking _hour_ late you goddamn dipshit! I swear, when I find you I’m going to—” 

There he stopped, standing still. Going to _what_? He thought to himself. Kill them? Chew them out? Drown them in Plastic? Leave them with the worrying, clingy Elsen? Hug them? Kiss them? Fu— 

He shook his head wildly, flustered. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about things like _that_ , he told himself, as he pressed onwards. He had to find his Player. Consequences can be discussed later.

Grumbling he walked past the several barns and storage warehouses and he came to a stop not too far from the portal exit point, where the furthest barn (it was desolate and abandoned, for some unknown reason the Elsen refused to go into it; they had complained something about growling and metal grating) stood. It wasn’t the barn that stopped him, though, it was what he saw on the ground outside it.

It was a bandage packet, one that he knew only the Player had on them. He remembered it well, like it was yesterday:

_“Oh, you’re scratched up,” the Player spoke up, walking over to him after the battle ended, “We’re nowhere near a resource box so we’re just going to have to make do with this.” They smiled, holding up a bandage packet, and Dedan scoffed, shaking his head._

_“Save it,” he told them, “Don’t need fucking bandages.”_

_His Player sighed and shook their head fondly, but chuckled and relented, putting the bandage back in their pocket. “I’ll kiss it better, then.” They grinned, and Dedan scowled at them._

_“Seriously?” he asked, and they nodded._

_“You didn’t want the bandage.” They reasoned, giggling before grabbing at his hand and planting a soft kiss on the wound. Some of his blood smeared on their lips, and the Guardian rolled his eyes, reaching forward to wipe it away with his thumb._

_“Messy little shit.” He mumbled, and they laughed brightly._

_“Your fault for not getting the bandage.” They chimed, before walking onwards. Dedan scoffed, but followed suit._

What was the bandage doing there? He thought to himself, picking it up and inspecting it, frowning.

“Fucking knew it. Something happened to them.”

“Indeed,” the Queen’s voice spoke up, and Dedan’s eyes widened, as he turned to see Vader Eloha standing behind him. Her Add-Ons were floating behind her, and Dedan frowned. She only took those out when there was a need for her to fight. Why would she need them now? “Someone has taken the Player, and you must take them back, as quickly as possible.” She told him, walking over to the barn. “It looks like this wasn’t enough to hold him in.”

“Hold who in, Your Majesty?” Dedan asked, fighting to keep his tone even despite the anger boiling in him right now at the news his Queen brought him.

“There is a monster loose, my dear Dedan,” she told him, gesturing for him to follow her into the barn. Her Add-Ons shone brightly behind her, lighting up the room to reveal hundreds and hundreds of chains littered across the floor, all wet with blood and bits of meat, broken-up like something had smashed into the chains to break them. Like a _monster_ broke them. “He’s after me, my son, and the Player,” she told him, gently picking up a broken chain and inspecting it with a sad expression on her face. “He’s going to kill me and Hugo. Who knows what he wants to do to the Player.”

“Tell me where he is, Your Majesty.” Dedan growled, “I’ll kill him.”

“No," she told him, and he frowned, but nodded. "Contain him. I suspect he’s in the Nothingness. But he could be anywhere in the Zones. I cannot guarantee you where he is.” She sighed, “This is a matter of great importance,” she told him, “You must hurry, my Dedan.”

“Understood,” the Guardian nodded, before resolutely striding outside. “I’ll get that monster piece of shit if it’s the last thing I do. If he lays a single goddamn _finger_ of his on _my_ Player, he’s going to be so fucking sorry he ever tried fucking with me.”

“Godspeed, Dedan,” the Queen bade him, and he nodded at her, before rushing to red cube that would take him to the Nothingness.

Left alone in the barn, the Queen sighed, pulling out a book she had with her the entire time, opened it to see her handwriting disappearing slowly, letter by letter.

“Ruining another hard-worked project of mine, my love?” she murmured, frowning. “You should know by now that I’m only doing this for the majority, my dear Batter. Don’t be so selfish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Batter flashback can be found in the first fic of this series, the 5+1 fic.


	5. Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Player makes an important decision.
> 
> Someone dies. But not for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so hi it's been a while off fandom how've you been i've been working real hard lately so i'm sorry i haven't been updating i hope you enjoy this chapter also it's dawn wow i'm going to go to sleep now yep goodmorning

When the Player came to, they were lying down on a bed in an unrecognisable place. Sitting up, they took a look around—it looked very normal. It was like as if they were back at home with their cat and school friends, and… where?

Groaning, the Player shook their head. What home? What cat? They didn’t have a cat. Who were those other people that looked like them? Humans, too? But the Player didn’t remember where in the Zones they saw other humans. School? What’s that?

The Player decided to drop the subject—it was odd, how they were dreaming of things they don’t remember. What an imagination they must have had. They took a look around. The room looked pretty mundane with normal-looking furniture and plastic tables and metal clocks and meat-upholstered sofas—wait, what?

So they _weren’t_ at home. Wait, what home? Home was at Alma, with Dedan, and Enoch, and Japhet, and Hugo and the Queen, and all the Elsen…

Not some alien place with strange box devices with moving pictures or moving hunks of metal husks, and strange humanlike people.

As far as the Player knew, they were the only human left, right?

They got out of bed, feeling a little woozy, and outside they heard voices talking.

“You are taking things too far! Tell me where they are _right now_ , or so help me…”

“I refuse.”

Okay, not talking, _fighting_.

The Player eyed the door, and realised that it was locked from the outside, after trying the doorknob. They frowned. How on Earth were they going to get out of there?

… What the heck is an Earth?

Shaking their head, they wondered what the heck happened to them to be thinking up of things like that at a time like this. They were nonsensical—they meant nothing to them, but why did they know about these things? What was going on?

“Help!” they yelled at the door. “Is someone out there? Let me out!” they beat at the door, desperation creeping into their voice as their hands stung from hitting the plastic door, and a most frightening hiss reverberated from outside.

“ _Batter_.” The voice growled, “Let the Player out, _right now_.”

The Player froze where they stood behind the door. The voice was one they didn’t recognise, but at least there was someone looking for them! Someone taking them away from this mysterious, frightening Batter—and yet, there was something in them that absolutely refused to leave the strange four-eyed man’s side.

“If they had wanted to come with you, they would have done so right now.”

And the Player’s eyes widened again as a dream flashed through their mind:

_“… Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”_

_The Batter raised an eyebrow, and looked down at his hand and at the bleeding knuckle._

_“It must have split when I made you punch the spectre…” the Player sighed, taking hold of the Batter’s hand and inspecting it._

_“You made me punch the spectre that attacked you?” the Batter asked, half amused, and the Player chuckled._

_“Reflex reaction. Shut up.” they stuck their tongue out at the Batter before digging around in their pockets. “… Well, since we’re out of Luck tickets, you’re just going to have to do with this.” They took out a plain bandage and grinned sheepishly. “This is all I got. It’s not a Luck ticket, but it’ll have to do when we get Backarie to Zacharie.”_

It wasn’t a dream. It was a _memory_ —they weren’t thinking things up, everything they were seeing in their head was _real_. There was something more to them than just being the last human in that lovely world of plastic and metal.

_Then who am I?_

They reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a moment.

“This is going to be a test, okay?” they told the door, as if the Batter could hear them. “If you do this… then I’ll never understand anything now. So please, let this not work…”

They willed the Batter’s hand to move and unlock the door from outside, just like how they did with Dedan.

The click reverberated loudly in their ears, louder than it should have.

* * *

The moment his hand moved, the Batter knew he had said the wrong thing. His eyes widened as he unlocked the door without his will and he turned his head, eyes filled with dismay as he tore his eyes from the Judge’s smirking ones to look at his Player standing at the now-open doorway, a dishevelled look on their face.

“You opened the door.” he breathed, and they looked at him, and there he couldn’t help but feel all hope in him drain slowly into a single tear that ran down his cheek. “… You’ll leave me.”

“And that they will most certainly do,” the Judge spoke up at him, sitting down and offering the Player his paw. “Come now, dear Player, the Guardians are looking for you. Especially Dedan, oh, what a storm he’s stirred up in his anger.”

The Player took a look around the area, and realised they were in Zone 2—the Elsen’s residential area. They sighed; as yet another memory flooded their mind, sharp, stabbing pain blossoming in their head.

_“So, we’re going to have to put these ties on.” The Batter stated, holding out two neckties (one they pilfered from an unconscious Elsen who had conked himself out running into a wall in panic) between him and the Player._

_“Yep.” They replied brightly, taking one from the tall man and slipping it on, tying it easily and straightening it out smoothly. They smiled down at their handiwork, and then noticed that the Batter hand been staring at them the entire time. Grinning, they chuckled darkly and plucked the other necktie out of the Batter’s hand. “Don’t tell me; you don’t know how to tie a necktie?”_

_The Batter said nothing, but lowered his head further to cover his already half-covered face. The Player laughed brightly, and waved the tie in his face. “Aha. So you don’t know!” They winked at him. “I could help you… for a hundred credits!”_

_“Zacharie’s rubbing off on you,” the Batter commented dryly, snatching his tie back from the Player and slinging it over his neck—but then he just fiddled with the ends, frowning, clearly unsure on what to do. The Player laughed, shaking their head fondly, before taking the ends, smacking the Batter’s hands away from them and willing them to stay by his side._

_“Hold still; I’ll tie it up for you, hopeless guy.”_

_The Batter shook his head, chuckling, and the Player laughed back as they quickly tied the necktie comfortably around the Batter’s neck, smoothing it down his torso._

_“There.” They smiled, “Now you look all smart and stuff.”_

With a wince, they stumbled slightly, clutching their head. The Batter, numb with dismay, could only watch his Player suffer the pain.

“Player, you look dreadfully tired,” the Judge commented kindly, walking up to them to rub himself comfortingly against their ankles. “Come now, all you’ll need is a cup of tea and some sleep.”

“W-wait.” The Player stammered, stepping away from both the Judge and the Batter. “… Batter.”

“Yes?”

“You’re telling me these… visions are memories.”

“Yes."

“He’s lying, my dear Player.”

“Shush, kitty!” the Player snapped, surprising the Judge, before they turned to look at the Batter. “I’m remembering things I’m not supposed to, but I am.” They stated, and the Batter slowly nodded. “You can explain yourself, and these memories, right?”

“Yes.”

“Player!”

“Then… I’ll go with you.”

The Batter’s eyes lit up with such hope, and a strange warmth washed over the Player, but their insides froze over with realisation, and they wrapped their arms around themselves as an involuntary shudder ran through them.

It felt too scarily similar to the time they first kissed Dedan.

“I understand.” The Batter nodded, before smirking down at the Judge, pulling out his bat. “It’ll be like old times, Player.” His grin widened, and the Judge could see sharp teeth in the man’s mouth.

“Old times newer than now, I’d expect.” The Player replied, before turning their eyes away, closing their hand over them as they tried abating their headache. “Attack plan Auto.” They said almost automatically, and the Batter smirked.

“Gladly.” He simply replied, and the Judge hissed at him, haunches raised, before he rushed forward to attack the cat, his Add-Ons right behind him as the Judge fought back.

“Just… don’t kill him,” the Player spoke up, as they sunk to their knees, clutching their forehead, their headache intensifying.

 _Attack Plan Auto? Where the heck did_ that _come from?_

It had felt like an eternity, just sitting there on the ground, hands tight in their hair, pulling at it to alleviate their pain, when a gentle tap on their shoulder made them look up at the Batter, smiling gently down at them.

“I broke his legs.” He said simply, and grimly, the Player nodded, uneasily standing up with his help.

“Player! How could you leave Dedan’s side like that?” the Judge cried past his whimpers of pain as he weakly twitched in his place, his four legs snapped in two, bones jutting out of torn flesh, and it took all the Player’s willpower to not look away. “What happened to all the time you spent with him?”

“Judge, there are weird things going on with me,” the Player replied, “I’m remembering things I’m not aware of,”

“Those are just lies! False memories!”

“No, they’re not.” The Player replied firmly, “Because if they were, then why… why do I know so many things? Why do I know that the Batter likes roller-coasters? Or that such a thing called _water_ exists? Or what other things sugar is made of? Or why can I control the Batter the way I do with Dedan?” their voice shook, “Why does the Batter have one of my bandages? Why do I feel so safe and happy with him, even though I’ve only met him for a day or so?”

At this, the Batter winced, and by instinct, the Player laced their hand in his, and a small smile crossed his face.

“Why do I want him happy? Why do I have this urge to help him? Why is it I have this sense screaming at me that he is _good_?”

“He—he isn’t,” the Judge weakly said, before resting his head on the ground. “Oh, this hurts a little more than I had expected…”

“I’m so very sorry, Judge,” the Player apologised, “But there’s something going on here, and I am not going to rest until I find out what. The Batter’s the only person who can help me right now.” They looked off to the side nervously, and bit their lip. “… Tell Dedan I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get to the bottom of things.”

“Don’t… go…” the cat weakly pleaded, but the Batter squeezed the Player’s shoulder and gently led them away. The Judge’s expression fell as he watched the large, black hulking monster lead the human away, their tiny hand in his large claws, and fervently, he prayed, that the Guardians or the Queen would arrive to where he was soon, as he let himself fall to restless sleep.

* * *

“Oh, dear.” The Queen sighed, turning to look at Japhet. “Do get me a Joker, please. It seems we came here a little too late.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The bird bowed his head, before hurriedly flying away to where he knew the merchant Zacharie was.

His Queen sighed, and knelt down to stroke the Judge’s fur, matted with dried blood and shook her head.

“Oh, my dear Batter, what a smooth tongue you have…” she murmured. “To sway the heart of a complete stranger. No matter. I’ve my best man on your trail.”

Her eyes glazed over as she viewed Dedan’s progress. He was currently patrolling the Nothingness, and he was fuming.

Excellent, she thought, nothing like a good, angry Guardian. This was going to get more violent soon, and somehow, she couldn’t wait for the time to come.

The rustling of feathers told her of Japhet’s return, and with a graceful smile, she handed the dead Judge over to the bird to let him heal the cat. “Oh,” she giggled lightly, “It’s time for Hugo’s afternoon snack. Do you mind continuing from here, dear Japhet? I must go.”

The bird nodded, and she teleported away to the Room, to gently pick up her son and give him a little éclair and a glass of milk, as she picked up a book and opened it to find the letters were disappearing much faster than ever before.

There was a line, though, that she had written in pen, and she had sure that it would disappear, but much to her horror, it, too, had begun to fade.

_You are Dedan’s Player, and he yours. You are to accept him as he is and to love hi_

“Oh, no.” she breathed. “Oh, this is most terrible. I have to get to work, and quickly.”


	6. Zacharie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zacharie's loyalty is tested as he's royally screwed over, the poor baby.
> 
> I'll make it up to him next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so okay wOW BATTERIE WELL WHADDAYA KNOW

“Tell me where the fuck they are!”

The sound of something hitting the wall bodily reverberated throughout the room, the impact sending shockwaves through the room, the immaculate piles of sugar crumbling at the force of the impact.

The body slumped to the ground with a pained groan, the wall crumbling before them, crumbs of plastic falling down on the man. Teeth grit together in anger, Dedan approached the fallen man, hands balled tightly into fists, as behind him, Enoch stood at the doorway, his arms crossed as best he could, a worried expression on his face as he watched his fellow Guardian.

Zacharie choked as he drew a deep breath to bring back the wind that was knocked right out of his lungs. He reached for his mask, fixing it as he sat up, looking up at the furious Guardian standing above him.

“I… I don’t know where they are.” He choked out, and Dedan growled at his response.

“Don’t bullshit me, merchant!” he yelled, swiftly kicking Zacharie’s gut again, forcing a gasp of pain from the man, sending him further back into the wall. “I know you saw that goddamn Batter, you little shit, you follow him around everywhere!”

“Dedan, maybe—”Enoch began to say, but the Guardian growled at him, effectively getting him to shut up.

“You and your fucking _crush_ on that goddamned freak,” Dedan spat at the man, and much to his pleasure, he saw the usually expressionless merchant flinch. “You aren’t going to fucking spill the beans, aren’t you?”

“I told you, I did _not_ see the Batter!” Zacharie managed to yell, as he clutched his middle area, groaning in pain. “I was just passing by Zone 3 to get to Zone 0 again when you pulled me out of the Nothingness to here!”

“You’re a long way away, motherfucker,” Dedan snarled, leaning in close to look the merchant in the eye. “ _Tell me where they are_.” He growled, grabbing Zacharie’s shirt collar, before lifting him easily, slamming him against the wall again. “Or am I going to have to beat your ass so hard you’ll need a Joker to get back?”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know, Dedan,” Zacharie spat, his mask askew, showing his own snarl at the Guardian. “Let. Me. Go.”

Dedan’s expression hardened, and his other hand came up to wrap around the merchant’s neck, squeezing tightly, and Zacharie began to gasp for air, his hands scrabbling to reach for Dedan’s hand around his neck, desperate for release.

“You _do_ know, you goddamn piece of shit.” He growled, “Where is my Player?” he yelled, and his shout shook the whole room.

“Dedan.” Enoch spoke up, and the Guardian turned to look at him, eyes alight with anger. “There’s been word from the Queen. She and Japhet found the Judge, dead, in Zone 2. You know what that means.”

Behind his mask, Zacharie’s eyes widened. The Judge? Dead?

… So _that_ was what Japhet needed the Joker for.

“She said that he possibly knows where the Batter took the Player. I think you should head over there.”

“Alright.” Dedan dropped Zacharie to the ground, the merchant coughing and gulping in air as much as he could as he gingerly felt his neck. It stung with his every touch—it was probably badly bruised. Sighing, the merchant pulled himself into a proper sitting position, tiredly leaning against the wall, as Dedan paused in mid-stride to the door.

“… Wait, if the Judge was dead, how am I supposed to find out what happened to him?”

A most frightening smile crossed Enoch’s face, and Zacharie felt a chill go down his spine.

“Japhet got a Joker, and guess from whom?”

Dedan’s eyes widened, and he turned to glare at Zacharie, who was still sitting by himself at the corner of the sugar vault.

“I _knew_ you motherfucker had something to do with this,” he growled, before turning to address Enoch. “Lock this bastard in here. We’re moving out.”

Enoch nodded, and allowed Dedan to go outside, before following suit—but not before turning to look at Zacharie, his mouth wide in a smile.

“Y’know, you should have complied from the start,” he said to the merchant, “Because now, if Dedan’s still angry with you later, he might even let me _eat you up_.” he chuckled darkly, before heading out the sugar vault, slamming the door behind him, the lock loudly clicking shut in the suddenly-loud silence of the room.

Alone, Zacharie’s shoulders slumped, and with a shaky sigh, he slumped back against the wall, gritting his teeth as hot tears pricked at his eyes.

None of this was hardly fair. First his dear Sugar died, and now all _this_ —the game had turned into a huge lie, and there were only three of them aware of it—the Batter, the Queen, and Zacharie himself.

The other people—the Judge, Valerie, Dedan, Enoch, Japhet, and even _Sugar_ (she’s alive, alive, alive, _alive, alivealive **alive**_ )… they were all lies, Zacharie knew that, and he _knew_ that helping the Batter was the only way to untangle everything, to fix this entire mess, to get the world back to what it was—a purified nothingness with nothing left to live for. As it always should have been.

His feelings for the Batter had nothing to do with this. They were irrelevant now.

What mattered now was that he got out of there and helped the Batter the best he can.

“I didn’t want to do this…” he sighed, before pulling up his shirt’s sleeves to reveal three tattoos hidden on his arm. “Beta, Gamma, Theta. Wake up. I need you.”

The three tattoos glowed and three Add-Ons appeared before him—two wire-wings, and one wire-halo, all three of them close to him, attentive and ready for any command from him.

“Get me out of here,” he told them, and at once, they glowed in unison, brighter and brighter, forcing Zacharie to close his eyes behind his mask. He felt his sword in his hand and he gripped the handle, as the sugar vault door blasted open. Slowly he opened his eyes, his loyal Add-Ons moving behind him as he moved forward into the gap left by the explosion, silently eyeing the panicking Elsens running around.

“I’m coming, Batter…” he murmured, before heading resolutely for the portal leading into the Nothingness.

* * *

“So, you’re telling me I don’t actually belong here?”

“No, I… I pulled you out of a panel in a wall in Zone 1, a really long time ago.” The Batter replied, as they sat, huddled together in the corner of the fourth floor of the library.” He chuckled sadly, looking the Player’s hand over in his own. “Zacharie had told me to put my hand through the panel, and—oh, is it coming back to you?”

The Player winced as their head throbbed with pain again.

_“Excuse me; you just strangled me into my laptop. Mind giving me an explanation?”_

_And without much protest, the Batter’s attention was fully trained on the person he had just pulled out of the blank panel, who was now glaring at him, arms akimbo._

_“Hello?” they said, “Batter, right? You just pulled me into the game.”_

_“… Game? What game?”_

_The person rolled their eyes, and shook their head. “I don’t think you even know who I am.” When the Batter shook his head, they sighed. “I’m your Player; y’know, the one who keeps telling you what to do?”_

“… Yeah.” They replied, sighing as they leant on the Batter’s shoulder. “It’s just… it’s so _weird_. In my memories, I’m like a completely different person. I’m energetic, I’m excited, funny… as far as _I_ know, I’m not like that. I’m… subdued, calmer, heck, I’m not super great at tactics…”

“You are.” The Batter replied, “And I _had_ noticed that about you. You’d changed, somewhat. You’re more patient now, more quiet.” He sighed, and patted his Player’s head. “It’s uncomfortable for me, too. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss it when you sass at me.”

The Player scoffed. “I don’t sass. Dedan sasses more than enough for the two of us.”

“Yes, well, you sassed enough for the two of us.” He chuckled, and the Player winced again as their brain twanged again in pain.

 _“Batter,_ darling _?”_

_His Player’s voice calling him that and turning sickly sweet made the Batter groan in exasperation. Shaking his head, he looked at where his Player was looking at—only to see the spectre floating merrily away with the bag of sugar in its hands. His glare hardened at it and he turned to look at his Player._

_“No.” he firmly declared, “We’ve got a Zone to purify.”_

_“And you’ve got a tactician who wants to cheer an Elsen up. C’mon, it’s just a tiny side quest, okay? I’ll drop it when this is all over. Just purify that particular spectre and let me have its sugar for lil’ Elsen here?” His Player grinned, and the Batter rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to ask you, you know.”_

_There was a light tug at his legs, and the Batter glared at his Player. “… Fine.”_

_His Player grinned brightly, giving him a thumbs-up, as he shook his head and pulled his bat out. Behind him, Alpha, Omega and Epsilon moved out behind him, flanking his sides, at the ready to attack._

“Huh, sure did.” The Player sighed, shaking their head in an attempt to clear it. “So, what happened, then? How come I don’t remember you?"

Here, the Batter’s kind smile disappeared and it turned into a grimace.

“The Queen.” He replied, “I was fighting her, along with Add-Ons, when she decided to go attack you instead of me.” the Player’s eyes widened, and he nodded gravely. “I tried to protect you, of course, but then she _did_ something, and, and you fell off the platform.”

“… I _fell_?” the Player echoed, “I _died_?”

“No, you fell into this liquid—it’s clear, I had never seen something like it before—”

“… Water.” The Player breathed.

“Yeah, I think? You’ve mentioned something about _water_ to me a while back.” He replied, “It’s what broke your fall, and I was about to jump in after you when the Queen told me what it was for. It was the water for her tea, and it embodied what she wished for the world to be.”

“… Her… tea?” the Player uneasily choked. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, that water was there to make those who drank it into what she wanted.” The Batter gripped the Player’s hand. “That’s what happened to you. You were immersed in the water, and you lost your memories of me—”

“No, not just that,” the Player breathed in realisation, as suddenly memory after memory flooded their mind, their eyes wide. “I… I _drank_ the tea. At her tea parties.”

The Batter’s eyes widened.

“That’s how I forgot about you—oh, my God, Batter, I _forgot_ you—” the Player began to choke up in realisation as tears stung their eyes. “After all we went through, I forgot you—”

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” the Batter pulled them into a hug, as the Player shook in his arms. “I understand. It’s the Queen’s doing. It’s not your fault.”

Trembling, the Player wrapped their arms around the Batter’s torso. “I remember everything,” they whispered, “You, our mission, my home—oh, my God, home. How long have I been gone?”

“I honestly don’t know,” the Batter confessed.

“My cat,” they choked, “My friends… Mom… Dad… I, I miss them…”

“Player,” the Batter spoke up, gently pulling away. “Player, listen to me.” he cupped his Player’s cheeks in his hands, wiping tear tracks away reverently as he spoke. “Come with me, and I’ll help you get back home.” He told them, and their eyes widened. “But you have to promise me that you’ll help me finish my mission.”

“Batter…”

“You’ve been in this game for far too long.” He told them, “So long that you’re part of it now. You have to get out of here while you can.”

Slowly, the Player nodded. “… I promise I’ll help you when I get home.”

Gently, the Batter smiled at them—as suddenly, a dishevelled, dirty Zacharie ran into their alcove, an unfamiliar sword in his hand and three Add-Ons floating behind him.

“Zacharie,” the Batter breathed, pulling away from the Player to stare in surprise at the merchant. “What’s going on? Where did you get those Add-Ons?”

“No time to explain,” he quickly replied instead, “You and the Player have to get out of here. Dedan and the other Guardians are talking to the Judge _right now_ and they’re coming this way.”

“Whoa, wait, Zacharie? How do you know about this?” the Player asked, bewildered.

“I…” the man paused, but shook his head, “Just go—get the Player to Zone 1, Batter, get them out of here, and continue your mission. Hurry up!”

The Batter and the Player shared a look, before nodding at each other, getting up. Quickly, the Batter ushered the Player to head up the stairs, him rushing after them—but not without hesitating, and turning around to look at Zacharie.

“Thank you,” he told Zacharie, walking over to him, and squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll come back for you.”

A bitter laugh escaped Zacharie’s lips, and he shook his head.

“I don’t think you can,” he replied, slipping a card into the Batter’s hand, as his other hand lifted his mask to reveal his lips. “But just in case miracles _do_ happen…” with a gentle smile on his lips, he moved forward and pressed them against the Batter’s.

Four red eyes widened in surprise as Zacharie pulled away, pulling down his mask to hide his face once again.

“Now, go.” He told him, “And don’t look back.”

The Batter blinked at him for a moment, before nodding.

“I’ll come back for you,” he told Zacharie firmly, before running upstairs after his Player.

Laughing sadly, Zacharie shook his head, as he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs.

 “You can’t,” he softly whispered, as he readied his sword. “But I hope you will…”


	7. The Impossible Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Player is now faced with an impossible choice, and Zacharie plays with chance.
> 
> Also, Enoch is a huge man-baby and I love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JFC THIS FIC IS IN ONE .RTF FILE ONLY AND IT'S 48 PAGES LONG NOW. OH MY GOD?????
> 
> THIS IS INSANE MAN OH MAN

“Don’t run so fast!” the Player gasped loudly as they half-tripped over their own feet, panting as they struggled to run after the Batter, who ran much faster than they did. The Batter had quickly overtaken them on the way up the stairs and was now practically dragging them up with him with a firm grip on their hand as they rushed through the corridors, dodging Spectres left and right as they headed to the roof of the library. The Batter said nothing, didn’t even slow down in his hurry, and sharply turned a corner, nearly slamming his slower Player into the wall. Gritting their teeth, they pushed themselves to run faster despite the burning sensation in their legs, and the stitches at their sides.

“Damn it, Batter!” the Player yelled, “I’m… I’m out… of shape!”

The Batter looked at his Player over his shoulder, and relieved, they let out a sigh as he slowed down a little to a light jog as he smirked slightly at them.

“You said that last time, too.” he said, amused. “Do you remember?”

“Last time…” the Player winced, as another sharp stab of pain shot through their mind:

_“Don’t run so fast!” the Player gasped loudly as they half-tripped over their own feet, panting as they struggled to run after the Batter, who ran much faster than they did. Behind them, Enoch’s loud, booming footsteps echoed through the hallway behind them, the man yelling after them as they ran away from him as fast as they could._

_“Come on! You’re smaller than him; we can outrun him!”_

_Behind them, the three Add-Ons were floating after them, flashing brightly in an attempt to temporary stun Enoch as best as they could as the Batter struggled to get his Player running along with him._

_“Damn it, Batter!” the Player yelled, “I’m… I’m out… of shape!”_

_“So is that lardass, but do you see him complaining?!”_

_“Don’t compare me to him!” The Player yelled, just as Enoch boomed, “I’m not a lardass!”_

_“Come on, you can’t just spend all your time just stagnant in front of your computer,” the Batter reasoned, and the Player laughed darkly._

_“Oh, try me,” they growled, and the Batter groaned, shaking his head._

“Oh, do I.” they replied, grumbling, and the Batter shook his head fondly, before moving onward. “I can’t wrap my head around everything yet, though. Y’know, I never swore the entire time I was with Dedan. With you, I must have been like a sailor.”

“Sort of.” The Batter replied simply, pushing the door to the roof open. “Let’s talk about that later. We’re here.”

The light from outside temporarily blinded the Player, and they squinted to let their eyes adjust, and beside them, so did the Batter, and suddenly the Player’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Wait, the light up on the roof isn’t bright enough to make someone wince—” the Player began to say, when they felt the Batter pull them behind him roughly. “Whoa, what’s—”

“Vader Eloha.” The Batter growled, and the Player’s eyes widened. Squinting, they looked over the Batter’s shoulder to see the Queen herself, with her three Add-Ons shining brightly behind her, blocking the way to the red box that would have led them out of the Zone. “Get out of my way.”

“Return what you’ve stolen, first.” She replied, holding her hand out to the Player, a gentle, kind smile blossoming on her face as she did so. “Come along now, Player, the Guardians are so worried for you. The Elsen want to know what happens at the end of your story. Hugo misses you.” The Player winced slightly and they inched a little more behind the Batter. She paused, and upon seeing that, her smile widened slightly into a smirk. “Or have you forgotten all that and instead believed all what this man has been telling you? Have you forgotten about the sugar rose? Imagine it rotting, petal by petal, my dear Player. Soon it’ll be too late, and it’ll be all gone, and the beast will _never_ return to who he was.”

The Player’s eyes widened, as the Batter raised an eyebrow, turning his head to look at them in confusion.

 _Dedan_. How could they have forgotten all about him?

The thought sent shock running through the Player as realisation hit them like a ton of bricks.

The Player was faced with an impossible decision: The Batter, the one who they had been through from the start until now, the man they had grown into fast friends with, or Dedan, the Guardian they had slowly cooled the heat of anger into something beneficial, something _better_?

“Ah, yes, I see realisation dawning on your lovely little face.” The Queen smiled, nodding as she slowly approached them, the Batter shielding his Player protectively despite not knowing what was going on. “You _had_ forgotten, hadn’t you? You terrible, terrible thing…”

“I-I didn’t,” the Player weakly replied, grasping the Batter’s arm like a lifeline that would ground them. “I just… I…”

“My Player needs to get home.” The Batter replied for them, his glare steadfastly pointed at the Queen, who had stopped advancing when he spoke up. “I’ll get them out of here.”

“No, my love,” the Queen shook her head, “The Player’s home is here, with us. They were perfectly happy here, weren’t you, my dear?”

The Player found themselves unable to answer.

“Well, I know for certain you at least made the Elsen happy. They burn less now.” The Queen casually spoke, “Hugo likes you a lot too; Japhet appreciates your help in the library. Enoch finally has someone else who he could share his cakes with. Valerie and Pablo enjoy your company. Dedan, well, you know what you did to him.” She chuckled, “He’s likely to live longer now, thanks to you.”

The Batter turned to look at his Player. “What did they do to you here?” he asked, softly, but there was the undeniable look of disappointment in his eyes.

“I…”

“Rather, what did _you_ do here?” the Queen spoke up, a smirk on her face. “You brought happiness into our world, Player. I’d hate to see that go.”

The Batter whirled around to glare at her.

“They have to go.” He said. “And so do you.” He turned to look at his Player. “Guide me, please.”

“… R-right,” the Player stammered, and the Batter faced the Queen again.

“Prepare for my wrath, Vader Eloha. I’m going to purify you this time around.”

The Queen gave him a passive glance, and sighed. “So it shall be.” She gestured for her Add-Ons to rise, as the Batter looked back at his Player.

“Just like old times.” He told them, before turning around and leaping into action, Alpha, Omega and Epsilon flying in from above to aid him.

* * *

“This is hardly fair,” Zacharie choked weakly, looking a little way away from his side to see Enoch pick up his left leg, grinning brightly. The stump where his leg had been should be hurting right now, but it was probably hurting so much it had numbed out. The merchant felt no pain. Nothing hurt—nothing physical, anyway. Worry was eating at him more than anything: his thoughts were for the Batter; where could he be right now? Did he get his Player out of here? Were they at the Nothingness? Is he alright?

He didn’t twitch when he saw Enoch bite down on his severed foot gleefully. Japhet was picking at his ruffled feathers; white marred by the specks and splatters of Zacharie’s blood on it, his hoof was firmly planted on top of his two Wing-type Add-Ons. The only one left still by his side was Theta, the wire-halo, but it was full-out of competence and refused to leave Zacharie’s side to attack.

“Life isn’t fair.” The bird replied simply.

“Yes, well,” Zacharie forced a chuckle, his lips twitching into a half-smile as the lower half of his mask crumbled to pieces and fell off. “Three Guardians against a lone one? A break would have been appreciated, amigos.”

“You got your break,” Enoch laughed lowly, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Out of the sugar vault, at least.”

Zacharie had to laugh there. “Good one,” he commented, wincing as he pulled himself up to lean against the ruined wall. The other side of the room had all the bookshelves in it. At least Japhet was considerate enough to move the bookshelves aside while they fought. Zacharie knew how much trouble the Player had sorting them out, after all.

Plastic looked rather nice in the colour brown, he thought.

“Enough.” Dedan roughly spoke up, and he swept his hand over Zacharie. A gasp of sharp pain tore from the merchant’s mouth as the Guardian’s Sweep Hand competence passed over him, ripping away his left arm from the elbow and throwing the limb away to the other side of the room. “I told you I was going to make you need a fucking Joker to get back.”

Zacharie laughed again. “It takes someone alive to bring someone dead back.”

“Don’t I know it.” Dedan replied, and behind his mask, Zacharie’s eyes widened. He turned to address his fellow Guardians. “Let the fucker bleed to death.” He looked over his shoulder at Zacharie. “It’ll be long, and painful, and you’ll stay alive through it until the very last fucking minute.”

“ _Magnifique_.” Zacharie weakly grinned at him. “I’ll see you at death’s gates, then.”

Dedan glared at him.

“Because I know that the Batter will be there to _purify_ that sorry _derriere_ of yours.”

The Guardian grit his teeth, and he shook his head. “Let’s get moving.” He told the two, before heading up the stairs. Japhet made a move to follow him, only to glance at Enoch exasperatedly.

“Enoch, do focus on the task at hand, please.” He told the man, who was now gleefully heading for Zacharie’s arm.

“Wait, he tastes like sugar too!” he grinned brightly at Zacharie, who stared at him impassively behind his mask. Chuckling, he picked up the severed arm and followed after Japhet up the stairs, the Guardian rolling his eyes at Enoch’s actions.

Sighing, Zacharie looked up at Theta, whose light dimmed as it pressed up against him comfortingly. “Gamma, Beta? You guys alive?”

The two Add-Ons weakly lit up.

“Great. Take the last of the Fortune Tickets and Silver Flesh I have on me, and go help the Batter.”

Immediately they lit up in protest, but he stared them down.

“ _Go_.” He ordered, “The worst thing that could happen to me is that I’ll die.” He paused. “And I’ll forget about all of this… but I have faith… that he’ll bring me back.”

He chuckled. “We kissed on it.”

The three Add-Ons lingered for a moment, but did as they were told, before flying upstairs to the rooftop.

Sighing, and once again all alone, Zacharie lay back against the wall.

“Bring me back, okay…? I’m not like the other three Guardians, wiped clean of memories and replaced with dead ones.”

* * *

“Oh, they’re coming.” The Queen suddenly spoke up, and her two opponents froze in place.

“… Who’s coming?” the Player asked.

“The beast.” The Queen smiled, and the Player’s eyes widened—

“Look out!”

The Batter bodily pulled his Player out of the way of the door just in time as it exploded open, the two of them crashing to the ground as Dedan stormed through the doorway, clearly angered.

“Dedan, hello,” the Queen brightly greeted, and the Guardian gave her a confused look. She gestured at the Batter and the Player on the ground beside her, and his eyes followed her hand, coming to a rest on the Player.

“… Player,” he breathed, his eyes widening.

“Dedan.” They replied, and they felt the Batter’s hand tighten around theirs.

“Isn’t this such a pleasant reunion?” the Queen cheerfully asked, before turning to Dedan. “You know what to do.” She told him, and he nodded.

“With pleasure, Your Majesty.”

“I won’t allow it,” the Batter spoke up, getting up, his bat at the ready to defend his Player.

“Perhaps, dipshit,” Dedan smirked at him, “But you’re allowing it anyway.”

The Batter hesitated in confusion—and that was all Dedan needed.

With one smooth swipe of his competence, he knocked the Batter off the edge of the roof, sending him plummeting down the tall building. The Player didn’t even have time to react and pull the Batter back to safety, sitting up in shock only to watch the Batter disappear off the edge.

Gaping at the place where the Batter was, the Player stayed still.

“Player, you little shit, don’t pull that kind of fuck-up again, do you hear me?” Dedan spoke up, getting down kneeling in front of them so they were eye level. “Do you know what fuckery I had to deal with when you disappeared? Goddamnit, you stupid shit, I’ve been looking for you everywhere—”

“Dedan, my dear,” the Queen spoke up, gently touching his shoulder. “I think it’d be best if I had a word with the Player.” She told him, and he resisted the urge to glare at her, to yell at her to fuck off: it was _his_ Player, goddamnit, he was the one to be handling this—but instead he relented. The Queen was the creator of the world. She knew what was best.

Reluctantly he let go of his Player, dismayed at their lack of reaction, and the Queen smiled at him. “I’ll bring them back to you soon. For now, go after the Batter and contain him.” She told him, before taking the Player’s hand gently, and the two of them teleported away to the Room.

Growling, Dedan punched the wall beside him, hard enough to make it crack.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, “Just… god fucking damn it.”

Sharply he turned on his heel and stormed back into the building, just as Enoch and Japhet arrived, the large man looking worse for wear, the bird exasperated.

“Dedan?” Enoch asked.

“Let’s go get that Batter asshole and get this over with.” He simply growled, storming down the stairs.

Enoch and Japhet shared a look, and Enoch smiled brightly at the bird.

“So does that mean I get to eat up Zacharie, if he’s dead?”

“Twat.” Japhet rolled his eyes, before ushering Enoch back down the stairs.

* * *

“I’m sure that the dear Batter has told you everything.” The Queen spoke up, sitting down across the Player as she laid down two sets of teacups, and a teapot between them. “Who he is, who you are, your purpose here…”

“Why are you doing this?” the Player replied instead, and the Queen smiled at them.

“I only wish to build a new world, one where all can be happy.” She replied, “I knew that my last chance had been… flawed,” she shrugged elegantly, “But I know as much as you do that _this_ version of this world is infinitesimally different.”

“Yeah, because here, instead, the Batter and Zacharie dies, and the world remains impure.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” the Queen replied, putting two books on the table between them. “I mean to say is that it was all thanks to you, my dear. _You_ brought happiness into the world—the very thing I couldn’t.”

“By taking me away from my home and erasing all my memory of it? By not letting the Batter complete his mission? This world has to be purified.”

“Whoever told you that _purification_ was a good thing to do?”

“Purification is the _right_ thing to do.”

“Yes, whatever, but _who_ told you?”

The Player remained silent, and here, the Queen’s smile widened.

“I’ll show you exactly what it is you are doing.” She told them, gesturing to one of the two books. “Take a look. There’s still something you’re not remembering.”

Warily, the Player eyed her as the Queen poured herself a cup of tea. Slowly they took the book and opened it—and hundreds of images rushed into their mind.

 _Burnt Elsen screaming for help. The solitary Elsen locked up in the saferoom. Elsen getting murdered by Spectre and bat alike. Cannibalism in Zone 3. Japhet emerging from Valerie’s dead body. Black and white. Empty. Muffled cries for help._ Purified.

“… Oh, my God.” They gasped, as tears stung the corner of their eyes.

“Yes. That is your so-called ‘purification’.” The Queen nodded, taking the book away from the Player’s shaking hands. “In the last world, Hugo and I are the only ones left before I had stopped it from happening.”

“… B-but I… I was _aware_ of this.”

“Yes, that you were, even as you and the Batter came to get rid of me.” the Queen poured a cup for the Player, and quickly, the Player inched away from it, glaring at it warily. “That gave me the notion that you had the very intention of seeing this through. So, I’m going to offer you a choice.” She opened the other book at the last page and showed it to the Player. Inside were words half-faded, written in dark black ink. There was a half-erased message at the very end:

_You are Dedan’s Player, and he yours. You are to ac_

“This book contains all your new memories, everything you knew of when I rebuilt this world. This is your life with us, with the Elsen, with Dedan.” She told the Player. “As you can see, it’s fading away, because this,” she gestured at the first book, “Is taking up the space of your memories from here.”

The Player fell silent. And after a long moment, they spoke up. “Why Dedan?” they asked.

“Dedan?” the Queen chuckled good-naturedly. “Because he needed you.” She simply replied, “He was dying—the stress, the weight of running the most crucial Zone in this world was crushing him. He was growing angrier and angrier, day by day. I thought that maybe extra hands would prove beneficial to him.”

The Player looked down at their hands, frowning. “So you assigned me to him.”

“Yes,” she replied, “It worked, didn’t it? He became much happier, now that he was less stressed.”

“Then what about… _us_? Was that _your_ work too?”

The Queen hesitated for half a moment, before smiling at the Player. “No.” she simply answered, “It was, however, a very pleasant surprise to see that you two had fallen in love with each other. All the better, in my opinion.”

The Player frowned, and the Queen smiled.

“But, of course, this all still depends on you.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Basically, I’m offering you a choice, my dear.” She gestured at the cup of tea. “You can either choose to forget the Batter again, and return to us, to the life you built, to the happiness you gave someone who needed it, to the love you found…” The Player winced slightly, as her hand moved slowly to the other book. “Or, you could return to the Batter, and help him on his mission of purification. Note, however, that we will not be lenient on you if you took that path.”

“Wait, I have to choose?”

“Yes,” she smiled, leaning back in her seat, clearly looking proud of herself. “The Batter,” she looked at the book, “Or Dedan?” she looked at the teacup. “You decide.”

The Player froze in their place.

“Think it through, my dear. You can only choose one.” She told them. “But remember: the sugar rose is wilting. You don’t have much time left.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here marks the time when the story branches to two parts, for the betterment of all the readers who are still conflicted over who to choose: the Batter or Dedan. 
> 
> This fic has three endings: the Original Ending, the Special Ending, and the True Ending. 
> 
> Yes, just like the game, so y'all should know that the True Ending happens no matter what ending you choose, haha.
> 
> So! The fic is about to end. Yay! :D


	8. Dedan: The Original Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of three endings.
> 
> The Player chooses Dedan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cHRIST THIS TOOK ME FIVEVER GDI WOW DEDAN YOU'RE AN ASS
> 
> ALL OF THEM ARE, ACTUALLY. YEAH. ALL Y'ALL.
> 
> REPOSTED BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT AND I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THIS CHAPTER JFC

Only one.

The Player swallowed, their throat constricting painfully as thoughts swam around their head. Their hands shook at their sides, as they stared at the two objects presented to them, transfixed with something other than shock—guilt? Perhaps; whatever choice they made involved the betrayal of someone dear to them. Confusion? Probably. The Player couldn’t fathom whatever was it they did to deserve this sort of treatment. Heartbreak? Likely. Staring down at the two items that could decide the fate of either man was as painful as if they were being under attack by Spectres and had no means of defending themselves. Or, perhaps, in some odd way, they were expecting this, really, something wrong was _bound_ to happen, one way or another. They should have somehow guessed that everything would go wrong the moment they decided to stay in the game, somewhere the Player was really never meant to be; they should have stayed outside the computer, back at home with the cat, and friends… But of course, now, there was no turning back.

It was either to kill or be killed, from here on out.

Conflicted, the Player stayed stock still, trapped in the passive, cold stare of the Queen directed right at them, watching, _waiting_.

“Well, my dear?” she asked, her Add-Ons shifting around behind her. “Your time is running out.”

The Player’s eyes shifted from the book to the teacup, teeth biting lips and hands balling into fists, shaking uncontrollably in nervousness, and oh, how the Queen loved seeing the Player like this—so indecisive, so _unsure_. It wasn’t like them to be like this. The thought of her bringing a powerful force such as the Player to their knees like this was oddly intoxicating.

“If it helps, I’d just like to say that Dedan needs you.” She spoke up, before taking a sip of tea from her own cup.

The heavy rush of guilt was something they expected to wash over them as she said that, and the Player shrank back in their seat.

Dedan needed them. He never told him that, and they knew it had to do with his pride and everything, but they perfectly knew that he had learned to rely on them. He had learned to love again, and if their memories of him before with the Batter were of any truth, meeting Dedan was probably the best thing that ever happened in the Guardian’s life.

Frowning, they thought back to when they had first encountered him—not as his Player, but the Batter’s, and thinking about how big a jerk he was—yelling at the Elsen, bullying them around; and then they salvaged what little they could remember of the time that they spent with him. He had grown kinder, yes, he yelled at the Elsen less.

Best of all, Dedan had learned to smile again. He had learned to love again.

The Batter… his mission _was_ important to him, they knew, but was the total destruction of all the Zones, all the hard work the Queen and the Guardians really worth all that? Was the loss of countless of innocent lives really worth ‘purifying’ a world?

No. Not really. Not ever.

Their hands, suddenly rock-steady lifted from their lap, and with an amused expression, the Queen watched it move to the teacup, her lips curling up more and more as the Player’s hand reached for the cup, their fingers wrapping around the handle of it.

“Excellent choice.” She nodded, as the Player lifted the teacup. She picked up her own, and lightly tapped it against the Player’s. “To the Zones.” She smiled.

“For Dedan,” the Player replied, stone-faced, before quickly downing the drink.

 _The tea got cold_ was the last thought in their mind before they blacked out.

* * *

Zacharie had almost dozed off to sleep when he heard footsteps approaching him. A strange hope lit up in his chest and happiness flooded his heart as he looked up in delight, the name of the Batter ready on his tongue—only to choke back when he saw Dedan striding down the stairs resolutely, followed by Japhet and Enoch far behind him.

His eyes widened behind his mask as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He had _failed_.

“You two take care of the merchant,” Dedan ordered, “I’ll handle that motherfucker Batter.”

“I think you’ll need help, Ded—” Japhet began to say, only to be cut off by an aggressive growl from the Guardian.

“I’ll go after the Batter.” He repeated, “Take care of this fucker.” He gestured at Zacharie, before storming off outside.

Enoch and Japhet shared a look, before the two of them looked down at Zacharie, who was now dead-silent.

“So. Not dead.” Enoch sighed, disappointed, and Japhet rolled his eyes.

“Figures,” he scoffed, before charging forward, stepping down on Zacharie’s intact arm with a sickening crush. Not a single sound escaped his lips. “How resolute of you to stay silent, my fellow Guardian. It must have been crushing to find that you’ve failed in this act of treason.”

“I have no words left to speak.” Zacharie replied, his tone dead even, like as if nothing was happening to him. Japhet gave him an impressed look, before urging Enoch over. The large Guardian lumbered over, grinning darkly.

“Well, then, I’d imagine you won’t. Not ever after this.” He chuckled, kneeling down with difficulty to eye Zacharie intently. “Never again to speak. Hm?”

Zacharie’s stone-cold expression faltered slightly in confusion.

“Oh, you don’t know what we’re going to do, don’t you?” he chuckled, before holding up an uncomfortably large syringe containing a familiar brown liquid. “Why don’t you have a little tea to calm you down?”

Zacharie’s eyes widened and he scrambled to get away, his mask askew on his face, blocking his eyesight completely. No, anything but _that_ —he’d rather _die_ than forget, no, no _nonononono **nononoNO**_ —

He let out a silent scream when Japhet broke his intact leg.

“Good, good,” he heard Enoch’s deep voice say as he felt fat, pudgy fingers grab his chin and force his jaw open, lifting his head upwards. He felt the syringe’s side brush against the corner of his mouth. “Drink up, my friend. I hope you’ll enjoy your new Zone.”

 _Batter, you promised me_ , was the last thought in Zacharie’s mind before everything faded away in a flash.

* * *

He didn’t hit the ground when he fell.

The Batter opened his eyes to see his Add-Ons and Zacharie’s Add-Ons suspending him in mid-air, just a foot off the ground. Sighing, he got off them and stood up straight, glaring up at the roof as thoughts of his Player rushed through his mind. None of this should be happening—all his work, his effort to find his Player again and find them, Zacharie’s efforts to save him, all was for naught?

His eyes widened and he reached into his pocket to pull out the Joker that Zacharie had shoved into his hand, and hope filled his eyes.

Or… perhaps he still had a chance.

Sliding the Joker back in his pocket, he ran back inside, all six Add-Ons following after him—just in time to see Dedan coming down the stairs. His eyes widened and at once he ducked behind a bookshelf, silently hoping that the Guardian didn’t see him.

He heard heavy footsteps walk towards where he was, and they stopped right behind the bookshelf he was pressed up against.

“I didn’t hear a motherfucking splat, you little shit Batter,” he growled into the space of the library, “So where the fuck are you?”

The footsteps walked away from the Batter to the other side of the floor, and with a little sigh on relief, the Batter ran silently to the stairs, Alpha, Omega and Epsilon loyally right behind him.

He didn’t notice Gamma, Beta and Theta suddenly lag behind, though, as if conflicted, and suddenly the glow from their bodies disappeared, suddenly replaced by a yellowish light.

At the other side of the hall, Dedan smirked to himself.

“Gamma, Beta, Theta. Bring that Player-stealing motherfucker to me.” he spoke up, and suddenly, the three Add-Ons lurched to do as he commanded.

Alpha had seen them coming, and warned its fellow Add-Ons, rushing forward to defend against them as Omega and Epsilon nudged at the Batter to turn around and _look_.

The Batter looked over his shoulder and his four eyes widened to see Zacharie’s Add-Ons clashing with Alpha.

“What are you three doing?” he hissed, “Aren’t you Zacharie’s Add-Ons?”

“Yes, they are, shitface.” Dedan suddenly spoke up, walking up to him, smirking, “But Zacharie, Guardian of Zone 0, is now a loyal subject of the Queen, and not loyal to you, fucking Batter.” He crossed his arms, grinning. “He’s… reformed now.”

“The tea.” The Batter growled.

“Bitch, it might be,” Dedan snapped back, “I’m going to kick your fucking ass so hard you’ll almost be dead.” He smirked, “But you won’t. You’ll just hurt and hurt _so fucking much_ for trying to take away _my_ fucking Player, you got that?”

“They’re mine.” He growled back, hunching over. “I’ll do what it takes. I could kill you all over again for them.”

“Try me, motherfucker.” Dedan growled back, “I’ve got _your_ God on my side now.”

The Batter grit his teeth. _He’s lying;_ he told himself, _have faith in your Player—they’ll never leave me._

Oh, how wrong the poor Batter was.

* * *

_You have been assigned to a being called “Dedan”._

_Dedan has an important mission. Be sure that it’s accomplished._

_We will let you out in Zone 1. Good luck._

_For more information, talk to the other guardians, or find the one called “The Queen”._

When Dedan first met his assigned Player, he had thought to himself if this was some cruel joke on him or the like that the Queen and the other Guardians played on him. Now, when he saw them again, all that was on his mind was relief.

And perhaps more than a little frustration, of many a different kind.

His Player sat up in their bed, groaning, clutching their head as their expression scrunched up in pain. “Ow, ow, ow….” They mumbled, rubbing their temples in an attempt to alleviate the pain in their head. “Oh, man, what happened?”

“Lots of things happened.” Dedan spoke up from his spot on a chair right next to their bed, and the Player’s eyes widened, as they turned their head to look at him, delight lighting up in their eyes.

“Dedan!” they exclaimed happily, getting up and launching themselves into his arms, giggling brightly as they wrapped their arms as best as they could around him. “I missed you!”

“What the shit, Player,” Dedan sighed, shaking his head, before wrapping his arms around them tightly. “Just… what the shit? I’d been so…”

 _Worried,_ was left hanging in the air but the both of them heard it clearly as if it had been said.

“I’m sorry,” the Player replied softly into the Guardian’s coat. “I shouldn’t have stayed out so long.”

“Damn straight, you little shit.” Dedan growled back, and they laughed lightly.

“Y’know, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened after I disappeared? I don’t really remember much of it…” Dedan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as he pulled away from his Player to look at them incredulously. “I mean, the last thing I remember was blacking out after getting this super nasty headache…”

The Queen, thankfully, had told him about this—she had made the Player forget about the Batter so that they would never have anything to do with him again. He couldn’t forget how happy he felt when he heard that, hearing the satisfying sound of a lock heavily clicking into place as he finally sealed the Batter in somewhere that could contain him—a vault located in the very deepest part of Zone 0, where no one except its mute Guardian could now enter.

“A Spectre tried taking you away.” He told them, and they frowned.

“That’s weird, Spectres never did that.”

“This one fucking did.”

The Player hummed to themselves, tapping their chin in thought, before nodding. “… Dedan, this is going to sound stupid, but could you do me a favour?”

“What is it, dipshit?”

“I… want to see this Spectre.” The Player shyly bit their lip. “Please? I want to see why it wanted to take me away.”

“You sure?” Dedan asked, grasping their shoulders. “What if the fucker tries something fucked-up?”

The Player smiled at him gently. “Then I’ll have you to protect me, right?” they chuckled. “I need you.” They blushed lightly, looking off to the side. “And in hindsight, you need me too, right?”

Dedan blinked at his Player, before shaking his head. “Staying asleep’s fucked you up, dipshit.” He said instead. “Fucking sentimental fucker…”

The Player chuckled brightly, planting a soft kiss on Dedan’s cheek. “You don’t like it?”

“What the fuck do you think?” he snapped back a little too quickly, and his Player laughed, and he could almost have melted. It had been far too long since he heard them laugh like that. “Whatever, dipshit. Get out of bed, then. I’ll take you to Zone 0.”

“Thanks.” The Player smiled, before attempting to get up—only their knees buckled and they fell forward, right into Dedan’s arms. “Oh, whoops.” They smiled sheepishly at him, and the Guardian rolled his eyes, picking his Player up bodily and dropping them back into bed.

“You can’t even fucking walk, goddamn.” Dedan mumbled, and his Player chuckled.

“So I can’t.” they replied, and Dedan rolled his eyes, sitting back down on the chair next to the bed.

“I’m supposed to be angry at you.” He spoke up after a long moment of comfortable silence, and his Player turned to look at him, smiling slightly.

“But you aren’t?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to get angry at you?” he grumbled. “The entire time you were away from me all I thought about was reminding you shithead where you fucking belong and who you belong to.”

His Player coughed awkwardly, and he looked at them to see an embarrassed smile on their face.

“If you’d like, why don’t you?” they asked softly, taking his hand in theirs and pressing bringing it closer to kiss the rough fingertips behind his long nails. “Remind me. Where I belong, who I belong to…”

Dedan blinked at them for a moment, watching his Player’s lips press against his rough hands, and slowly he cupped their cheek, feeling them lean into it, sighing happily. A sense of pride swelled up in him, emboldening him to continue.

His hand moved down, caressing his Player’s neck, before moving down to their shoulder, down their chest, and to their waist. When his hand brushed the waistband of their pants, he heard them let out a small gasp.

“Do you want me to?” he asked gruffly.

“I thought you wanted to.” His Player replied, and he growled at them.

“Motherfucking tease.” He simply said, before kicking his boots off, pulling his coat off and clambering on top of his Player, straddling their waist and grabbing their hands with one of his, pinning them down above their head. “I’ll do just fucking that, then. I’ll remind you—so hard you’ll remember nothing else.”

His Player shivered in anticipation, and he smirked. He quickly pulled down their pants and underwear in a single swipe, his hand immediately cupping their crotch to find it already damp in arousal. He smirked and he leant up to lick a long stripe up his Player’s throat, earning him a weak moan from them.

“Don’t you fucking forget this—you belong at my goddamn side.” He growled into their skin as he wet his fingers with his Player’s arousal, “Wherever the fuck I go, you’re there, like some goddamn shadow or tail and you’re never going to fucking leave.”

He reached down and slid his finger inside his Player, earning him a long, loud moan from them that sent waves of arousal going straight to his cock. “Fuck, keep doing that shit,” he groaned, using his knees to spread his Player’s legs wider as he spread their entrance bit by bit, first with one finger, then two, and three.

“O- _oh_ , ah,” his Player was gasping and moaning as he spread them, massaging their insides as their legs trembled at either side of him. “F-feels, a- _ah_ , g-good,”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he growled into their ear, thrusting with his fingers in them, earning him a strangled, “ _God_ , yes,” from his Player’s flushed, wet lips. He smirked at their eagerness and let go of their hands to pull their shirt up to play with their nipples. One of his hands played with one, while his tongue fondled the other to tenderness.

“ _Dedan_ ,” they moaned, their legs buckling at his sides, “Oh, oh, please.”

“Where do you belong, then?”

“H-huh?”

“Where do you belong, you little shit?” he growled loudly, nibbling lightly on their nubs, earning him a heady gasp from his Player. “Answer me.”

“B-by your side,” his Player managed to gasp, “Ne-nev-never leave, please, Dedan,”

“Needy little shit,” Dedan smirked, pulling away from their nipples to look down at his Player—cheeks flushed, lips wet and shiny. His eyes focused on them for a moment, thinking about how they would look wrapped around his cock, but he put that thought aside for now. Someone needed teaching. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

He pulled his fingers out of his Player, before quickly unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, growing as cool air hit heated flesh. He slicked himself up with his Player’s arousal before pressing the head to his Player’s entrance, his hands coming up to hold his Player’s thighs and keeping them apart as his Player’s hands balled into fists in their bed sheets.

“You belong to me. And only fucking me, got it?” he asked, pressing the head into his Player, earning him a long moan of ecstasy. “You,” he thrust in a little more, “Belong,” he pushed in a little more, “To, fucking,” his cock pushed into his Player’s tightness, and he grit his teeth at the delicious pressure around his cock. “Me.”

He thrust in fully, sheathing himself in his Player fully, pressing their hips together as they gasped loudly, their legs twitching in Dedan’s grip.

“Got that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” his Player breathed, heady with arousal and pleasure. “Yours, only yours.”

“Good Player.” Dedan smirked, before pulling back and thrusting powerfully in, his rhythm fast and unforgiving and powerful, filling his Player to the brim with ever thrust into them, as their gasps and whimpers turned to loud moans, and breathy diminutives of his name and ‘yes, oh, God, yes’.

“At my side, mine for-fucking-ever.” He growled into their ear as he felt his thrusts grow erratic. He was close, and by the way his Player was clenching around him, they were too.

“Always,” his Player gasped back, “I-I, _oh_ , I love,”

Dedan’s eyes widened and suddenly his Player’s hands came up behind his head to pull him in, pressing their lips against his mouth in a messy, desperate kiss as they came, wetness coating the space (or lack thereof) between them, their walls clenching around Dedan’s cock so deliciously it earned a long, guttural growl from the Guardian, as he pounded into his Player all the more vigorously.

“I love you too, fucking shit,” he growled into their ear. “And I’m yours, goddamnit. Yours.”

“Mi-mine,” his Player gasped, and with a groan, Dedan spilled his load into them, filling his Player with warm seed.

He collapsed on top of them, alarmed. He had never come that had before, ever. He looked at his Player, who looked like they were about to fall asleep again, their eyes half-lidded, their lips quirked up in a lazy smile.

“I love you,” they murmured, lazily hugging Dedan close to them, before falling asleep.

“Dipshit.” The Guardian mumbled, but he was smiling.

And once again, he thought, he was happy.

So very happy.

* * *

“…”

“Zacharie doesn’t talk much anymore.” The Player commented, leaning against Dedan for support as they stood at the entrance to the newly-created underground of Zone 0. A worried expression crossed the Player’s face as they looked into Zacharie’s mask. “I miss talking to you already.” They told him, poking the nose. “Won’t you say anything?”

“He’s gone mute,” Dedan spoke up, pulling his Player away from him, “He got injured helping us save you from the Spectre. The fucking thing tore his throat out.”

His Player pulled a face. “I’M so sorry, Zacharie. I’ll miss that ‘miaou’ of yours.”

The merchant did not reply.

The Player pouted, before turning to look at Dedan. “So that’s why he started wearing turtlenecks.”

“Basically,” Dedan turned to address Zacharie. “Open it.”

Zacharie nodded, and his Add-Ons (wings and a halo, the Player exclaimed in delight, they were almost as impressive as the Queen’s!) glowed brightly. Three rings lit up on the door to the underground, and the double-doors swung open.

Together, hand in hand, the Player and Dedan descended into the depths of the new Underground, until they came to a floor made of clear Plastic, allowing them to see what was beneath it—a large atrium filled with chains of metal, hundreds and hundreds of them, meat, and blood, and smoke—and in the middle of it all, there was a big black monster with large empty eyes looking up at them with such a lost look in them.

The monster was missing its arms and legs. There was black blood everywhere, and in the midst of the impurities all about, there were tears flowing from the monster’s large eyes, pure clearness mixing with the black sludge all around it, and the Player felt pity in their heart as they knelt down to look down at the hapless monster meters and meters beneath them.

“I’m so sorry for you,” they told him, and a voice whispered into their ear.

_Player… please..._

The Player frowned. Their head began to hurt, and they backed away slightly.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” they asked, and behind them, all Dedan could do was smirk.

* * *

_EPILOGUE_

There was a blank little panel in the wall in the mines.

The Player had wanted to go take a look at what it was.

Without telling Dedan, thinking it was a lovely surprise, they visited it during the day, curiosity fueling their courage as they approached it, the only light in the pitch darkness of that particular area of the mine.

Their hand reached for it, their eyes wide in curiosity—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is the Batter Special Ending!


	9. The Batter: The Special Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second of three endings.
> 
> The Player chooses the Batter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THIS ONE TOOK ME TENEVER WOW 
> 
> BATTER YOU'RE AN ASS TOO APPARENTLY
> 
> AND SO IS HUGO THAT'S NOT NICE HUGO
> 
> ALSO BATTERIE
> 
> WHOOPS SPOILERS
> 
> ALSO I STILL APOLOGISE FOR THAT DERPING THAT HAPPENED THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. HOPE IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN.
> 
> SHIT IT'S ENROLMENT TOMORROW GDI SCHOOL

Only one.

Dedan _needed_ them, right? He needed them, needed them to live…

Their hand reached for the teacup, and the Queen’s smile widened.

I have to stay by his side, continue to make this world grow, where the plastic would run rivers of fake water, meat grow as the world’s fake fauna, metal populate the world’s flora, smoke pollute the air and saturate it with greyness instead of the cool, crisp green and clear air back at home—

No, no, no. Everything was so… _wrong_. The love, the happiness that they had bloomed in this lonely, desolate land was all… a _lie_? Memories, false? All the times that they had shared with Dedan—the bond that they had forged in the time they were together was built completely on this lie, a life completely separate from the world they were in right now, a world where the Player had friends, a family, much more people who cared for them, people who they knew would be _devastated_ to find them gone, for ever. The Player’s hand, poised over the table, flinched away from the teacup, a pained expression crossing their face as they shook their head. As much as they had loved Dedan, no matter how close they grew in the time they spent together, losing all what they had before all this… it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth staying in this world, where everything wasn’t what it really was. Even the Batter’s mission of purification looked more viable than this.

Feeling bile crawl up their throat, the Player moved their hand towards to the book, and the Queen’s pleased expression dropped as they did so.

“So you have chosen the Batter.” She simply said. Numbly, the Player nodded guiltily, unable to speak. “Alright, then. I shall return you to him.” Her glare at the Player hardened and a chill ran down the Player’s spine. “Remember, do not blame any of us when we try to kill you.” She spoke icily, getting up, as her Add-Ons glowed brightly behind her, so brightly the Player flinched away from it, closing their eyes and laying their hands over them protectively.

“Goodbye, Player. I hope you live through this decision of yours.”

Somehow, the Player was already regretting it.

* * *

Zacharie had almost dozed off to sleep when he heard footsteps approaching him. A strange hope lit up in his chest and happiness flooded his heart as he looked up in delight, the name of the Batter ready on his tongue—only to choke back when he saw Dedan striding down the stairs resolutely, followed by Japhet and Enoch far behind him.

His eyes widened behind his mask as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He had _failed_.

“You two take care of the merchant,” Dedan ordered, “I’ll handle that motherfucker Batter.”

“I think you’ll need help, Ded—” Japhet began to say, only to be cut off by an aggressive growl from the Guardian.

“I’ll go after the Batter.” He repeated, “Take care of this fucker.” He gestured at Zacharie, before storming off outside.

Enoch and Japhet shared a look, before the two of them looked down at Zacharie, who was now dead-silent.

“So. Not dead.” Enoch sighed, disappointed, and Japhet rolled his eyes.

“Figures,” he scoffed, before charging forward, stepping down on Zacharie’s intact arm with a sickening crush. Not a single sound escaped his lips. “How resolute of you to stay silent, my fellow Guardian. It must have been crushing to find that you’ve failed in this act of treason.”

“I have no words left to speak.” Zacharie replied, his tone dead even, like as if nothing was happening to him. Japhet gave him an impressed look, before urging Enoch over. The large Guardian lumbered over, grinning darkly.

“Well, then, I’d imagine you won’t. Not ever after this.” He chuckled, kneeling down with difficulty to eye Zacharie intently. “Never again to speak. Hm?”

Zacharie’s stone-cold expression faltered slightly in confusion.

“Oh, you don’t know what we’re going to do, don’t you?” he chuckled, before holding up an uncomfortably large syringe containing a familiar brown liquid. “Why don’t you have a little tea to calm you down?”

Zacharie’s eyes widened and he scrambled to get away, his mask askew on his face, blocking his eyesight completely. No, anything but _that_ —he’d rather _die_ than forget, no, no _nonononono **nononoNO**_ —

He let out a silent scream when Japhet broke his intact leg.

“Good, good,” he heard Enoch’s deep voice say as he felt fat, pudgy fingers grab his chin and force his jaw open, lifting his head upwards. He felt the syringe’s side brush against the corner of his mouth. “Drink up, my friend. I hope you’ll enjoy your new Zone.”

 _Batter, you promised me_ , was the last thought in Zacharie’s mind before everything faded away in a flash.

 _And he will,_ a familiar voice whispered in Zacharie’s head, and his eyes widened.

So, hope _did_ exist.

* * *

He didn’t hit the ground when he fell.

The Batter opened his eyes to see his Add-Ons and Zacharie’s Add-Ons suspending him in mid-air, just a foot off the ground. Sighing, he got off them and stood up straight, glaring up at the roof as thoughts of his Player rushed through his mind. None of this should be happening—all his work, his effort to find his Player again and find them, Zacharie’s efforts to save him, all was for naught?

His eyes widened and he reached into his pocket to pull out the Joker that Zacharie had shoved into his hand, and hope filled his eyes.

Or… perhaps he still had a chance.

Screaming caught his attention and his eyes widened to realise that it was his _Player_ screaming. His head snapped up to see them hurtling to the ground after him, fear clear in their eyes, their arms reaching down for him, desperate, fearful. There was that familiar tug at his body and the Batter couldn’t be gladder to feel controlled again. He allowed himself to move forward, and with a boost from his Add-Ons, he jumped up and caught the Player in his arms, hugging them close to himself tightly, as he and his puppeteer landed on the ground, hard. The Batter could care less; his Player had chosen to stay by his side.

Their loyalty astounded him to no end.

He pressed his nose into their hair and inhaled their scent—so otherworldly, so _different_ from the meat, the plastic, the smoke, the metal, the sugar; his Player smelled so… clean. So _pure_.

“You chose me.” he murmured to them, and his Player laughed sadly.

“You’re my Batter and I, your Player.” Calmly, they hugged him back, before getting down from his arms to address him properly.  “I’ve promised to you, long ago, when I started this game that we are a _team_.” Chuckling self-depreciatingly, they pulled the Batter’s cap off his head and put it on. “Puppet and puppeteer.” They murmured, standing up on tiptoes to plant a small, chaste kiss on the Batter’s cheek. He half-smiled down at them, and held their sides, squeezing reassuringly as he felt them treble against his body. The Player calmed down, but only just, as the Batter took his hat off their head, taking his bat from Alpha, who had managed to find it discarded a little way away from them.

“Thank you.” The Batter reverently told them, and they nodded.

“Let’s go save Zacharie.” The Player told him, taking his hand in theirs. “You’ve got the Joker, right?” the Batter blinked at them, before pulling out the card that Zacharie gave him, and his eyes widened in surprise to see that it was indeed a Joker. His Player smiled at him. “Let’s go.” They chuckled, “It’ll be like old times all over again.”

The Batter nodded.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

“Mama, are you going to burn that book?” Hugo’s little voice shook the Queen out of her reverie and she turned around to see her little boy walking up to her, dragging the piece of meat he loved playing with behind him. She looked down at the book she had in her had, still intact, ready to _burn_ in her anger, and little Hugo tugged at her skirt.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she asked gently, picking him up.

“May I have that book, Mama?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t like this book, dear—”

“I insist, Mama.” Hugo’s small smile disappeared and a forceful tug at her arms forced the Queen to put the boy down and hand him the book. She looked on in shock, as her mind raced—how did that happen? _What_ just happened?

The little boy took the book from her and began to walk away.

“Mama, this is Player’s storybook. Player and Mr. Tall’s storybook. You can’t burn happily ever after.” He told her, before turning away, opening it up and reading it as he ambled away.

Defeated, the Queen stayed rooted in place, held there by her own son, and she bowed her head, shaking it at tears poured down her face.

“I’m sorry, Dedan… I’m so sorry I can’t even give you this reprieve.”

* * *

She was too late for her apology, anyway.

Dedan had seen the Player falling to the ground, and his heart had leapt to his throat in complete shock—he hesitated, caught like a deer in headlights.

But then he had seen the Batter catch the Player in mid-air, hugging them tightly as they landed, and a strange sort of feeling crossed his entire being. He had never felt angrier than ever before.

“Goddamn motherfucker, I’m going to—”

But then he saw his Player kiss the Batter’s cheek, and his world screeched to a halt, and he turned around, almost automatically, back into the library.

There was the sound of metal creaking and breaking as he walked.

* * *

They hadn’t heard any screaming, but they _did_ hear the sound of flesh tearing and blood spilling when they came up to the floor where they left Zacharie. The Player’s eyes widened as together with the Batter, they approached the middle area to find Enoch holding up Zacharie’s limp body, bloody goo in his other hand. The merchant’s throat area was bleeding profusely and his sword was on the ground somewhere, discarded by Japhet’s hooves.

“Stop them,” his Player gasped, their eyes wide shock at the immense amount of blood before them, on Enoch’s hands.

 _Sweet, kind Enoch, who loved sweets and tea, and enjoyed giving them confectionaries_.

The Batter nodded by their side, holding up his bat, as they fell to their knees.

“Can I…?” he asked, looking down at them, and sadly, they nodded.

“Kill him, if you have to.” They quietly told him, and the Batter smirked, his grin wide, his teeth unnaturally sharp as he charged forward, all the Add-Ons, his own and Zacharie’s at his flank to aid him.

* * *

The Zone had turned quieter, Dedan thought to himself as he stepped out onto the roof, dazed at the thought his Player had left him.

It hurt, the debris in his chest cavity scratched at his insides, tore at him, bleeding him inside out. His world was falling apart, and he hadn’t even been purified by that goddamned Batter.

Growling, he punched the wall.

Why? What was it that he did to merit such a punishment? He was improving as a Guardian, wasn’t he? He was nicer now, he was more understanding. He was _happy_ , god-fucking-damn it, why did everything have to turn out like this?

Something stung at his eyes. He ignored it.

Around him, he saw Zone 2 disappearing, bit by bit, the muted colours of the world fading to black and white, and dismay mixed in with the disappointment, hurt and heartbr—

 _That was it_.

Heartbreak.

This was what heartbreak felt like—like metal scraps moving around inside you, tearing you apart from inside out, blood flowing freer than the liquid plastic, more volatile than the smoke that blanketed the air.

His heart was broken, broken by the impact his Player had on him.

It had grown in size, in colour, in emotion as he spent he spent many a happy time with his Player—when he first met them, it had been a tiny shrivelled-up thing, but over time, it had grew into something else, something much lovelier than he had ever had before, but now all that was gone, in a single act of betrayal by the very person Dedan had learned to rely on, learned to love, his last light of hope before the stress from all his work overtook him and claimed his life—

His eyes widened.

His heart was his sugar rose.

And, broken, it was nothing of the same sort of beauty anymore.

His sugar rose had all rotted up. There was no longer any turning back.

* * *

"You… fool! You’ve doomed this world!”

“Exactly.” The Batter replied, before bringing down his bloodied bat once again to finally silence Enoch, forever.

At the other side of the library, the Player was sitting down with Zacharie’s head on their lap, shakily stroking his hair as memories ran through their mind of all the times they shared friendly banter and haggled for prices.

Now, the merchant was mauled, possibly ruined beyond recovery, and put through such pain, and it was all their fault. Their shoulder shook as they fought back tears that threatened to fall from their eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Zacharie. You’ve been so loyal to us,” they told him, though they knew he wouldn’t hear them. “You can’t hear me right now, but I’m really sorry.” They pressed their forehead against his mask, as the Batter approached them. Gently he tapped their head with his bat, and they looked up to see him holding out the Joker to them.

“Bring him back and tell him yourself, then.” He told them, and they smiled up at him apologetically.

“Yeah, you’re right,” they sighed, wiping at their eyes, before taking the Joker from him, holding it over the merchant’s dead body, before tearing it into two, white sparks entering Zacharie’s body as the Player pulled back.

His body convulsed to life, and the moment his eyes opened behind his mask, he suddenly reached for his sword, and his Add-Ons sprang to life, before rushing to attack the Batter.

The Player’s eyes widened.

“Zacharie! What happened to you?!” they screamed in horror as the Batter quickly brought up his bat to defend himself against Zacharie’s sword, his Add-Ons facing off against Zacharie’s. “Aren’t we allies?”

“You’re traitors to the Queen,” Zacharie said, his voice monotone and devoid of all the quirk he had before, and the Player’s jaw dropped in realisation. “I have to get rid of you, Batter.”

The Batter glanced at his Player, and saw their surprise.

“The tea,” he told them, and they nodded.

“No other explanation.” They replied, standing up, their eyes clearly avoiding looking at the dead bodies of the two Guardians they defeated. “We’re going to have to knock some sense into him.”

The Batter nodded, before moving back abruptly, forcing Zacharie to fall forward. He reacted quickly, though, and soon he and the Batter were exchanging blows so quickly, that even the Player had difficulty keeping up and managing the Batter’s Competence alongside the three other Add-Ons.

“Batter, don’t kill him!” the Player yelled over the din of fighting, and the Batter frowned.

“Then how are we supposed to get him to remember?” he asked, and the Player hesitated, biting their lip. The Batter’s expression fell slightly. How the Batter hated seeing his Player like this—so indecisive, so _unsure_. It wasn’t like them to be like this. He needed to change that—he had to make the decision himself.

Good thing he knew exactly how.

He surged forward without his Player’s prompt, and he rammed his bat’s handle into Zacharie’s wrist, earning him a gasp of pain as the merchant let go of his sword.

“Batter?!” he heard his Player exclaim, but he couldn’t stop now. Quickly, taking advantage of Zacharie’s surprise, he grabbed the merchant’s shoulders, tearing the man’s mask off and pressing their lips together.

The Player looked on with wide eyes, an embarrassed blush crossing their face.

“… Oh, my.”

Zacharie stiffened up in the Batter’s grip, and the Batter pressed forward insistently, his lips warm against the other’s, and for a tense moment, the Player feared Zacharie might do something—but their worry melted away to relief when Zacharie’s hands threw themselves around the back of the Batter’s neck as he began to kiss back.

The kiss was long, tearstained, and full of more than pent-up feelings let out after so long being hidden away. They pulled apart from each other and laughing breathlessly, Zacharie pressed his forehead against the Batter’s, hugging him closer.

“I knew you’d come back to me.” he murmured, smiling, and the Batter simply stayed silent, his hands now at Zacharie’s waist, and he turned his head to address his Player.

“He’s back.” He declared, and with a laugh of delight, the Player came over to them, the Batter pulling away from Zacharie (and pointedly ignoring the lingering light grip the merchant had on his tunic) to allow them to talk, bending over to pick up Zacharie’s fallen mask.

“I’m glad you’re back,” they smiled at him, and he smiled back at them charmingly, holding his hand out at the Batter for his mask back.

“As am I, dear Player,” he replied, putting his mask back on. “How horrible it was to forget. I almost killed you both!”

“Right,” the Batter spoke up. “We need to get moving.”

The Player nodded. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner I can get to go home.”

Beside the Batter, Zacharie stiffened up, and the Batter quickly snatched his hand, squeezing it. The merchant’s eyes widened and he looked up at the Batter, who silently shook his head.

 _Don’t say anything_.

“I mean, you’ve already told me long ago that I can’t get back, but… I think I can still get out of here, somehow.” The Player continued, not having seen the Batter’s silent message. “After this is all over. Maybe I’ll see the menu to quit the game flash up before my eyes and I’ll get out of here. Pop right out of my laptop screen. Right?”

The two shared a look, and slowly nodded.

“Right.”

* * *

They returned to Zone 1, where they knew the panel that brought the Player into this world still was, as Zacharie had told the Batter long ago. Together, they arrived at Damien, with many a frightened and confused Elsen staring at them as they walked past, whispering amongst themselves and giving the Player confused glances.

One managed to muster up the courage to approach them.

“Player, where were you? We were waiting for the… story… to end…” the poor thing managed to wheeze, and the Player opened their mouth to answer, when both Zacharie and the Batter held out their respective weapons at the Elsen, making him squeak and move back, fearful.

“Batter, Zacharie,” the Player tugged at their clothes, but neither man replied, instead putting their weapons back and moving onward, ushering the Player along with them. “The both of you!” the Player yelled as the two practically manhandled them into the mines. “Would you two at least listen to me? That Elsen didn’t deserve to be treated that way!”

“And we’re in a hurry, Player,” Zacharie replied, “The longer you stay in this world, who knows how much time has passed in your own world? This world _is_ a game, but life outside goes on.” He told them with a sternness the Player had never seen in him before. “How much time would have passed out there the entire time you were here, have you ever wondered?”

The Player fell silent. He was right. They should at least hurry home—they had been in this world for so long they had forgotten that time moved along. They had been so… happy here.

A pang of guilt surged through them.

Dedan was happy, too. Now, that happiness seemed bleak.

“Hold the fuck up, you shitstains,” a familiar voice growled, and the Player’s eyes widened to see Dedan standing in their way, his arms crossed.

“Dedan,” they breathed.

“I’m not going to fucking let you pass any fucking longer, got that?” he yelled at them, as the Batter clicked his tongue in annoyance, pulling out his bat, Zacharie readying his sword. “You’re a motherfucking traitor, Zacharie,” he spat at the merchant. “You were supposed to be the Queen’s subject—the fucking Guardian of Zone 0—your little cunt friend gets killed and you sell your ass to this motherfucker?” he gestured brusquely at the Batter, before turning to him. “And _you_ , you little shit, you’ve got balls to come marching in here and fucking up every goddamn thing I’ve ever worked hard for.”

“I came to purify.” The Batter replied coolly, “You have no right to question my holy mission.”

“Purify my fucking goddamn ass,” Dedan growled, “Stealing bastard.”

The Player winced, pointedly avoiding Dedan’s gaze.

“And _you_ , you fucking dipshit Player!” Dedan yelled, and the Player winced, before forcing themselves to look at him, guilt wracking them endlessly as they braced themselves for abuse—

That never came, as the Guardian sighed.

“You goddamn little bitch, I’m still in love with you, okay?” he growled, “How the fuck am I supposed to get angry at you? The entire time you were away from me all I thought about was reminding you shithead where you fucking belong and who you belong to.”

He snorted.

“Turns out I was the wrong one. Fuck you, right?”

The Player’s eyes widened with tears.

“I’m… so… sorry.”

“Fuck that sorry. What kind of a dipshit says sorry to someone they made happy?” Dedan snorted, shaking his head. “Who am I fucking kidding, I can’t fucking fight you, Player.” He looked right at them. “I’ll never hold my hand against you, god-fucking-damn it, because you little shit wormed your goddamned way into here,” he slammed his fist against his chest, “And I can’t fucking get you out anymore.”

He glared at the two of them.

“So fuck this shit, do what you fucking have to.” He told them, before looking at the Player one last time, with eyes full of sad longing. “Just make the Player happy.”

The bat and the sword fell at the same time the tears did, both from the beast and his sad little beauty.

* * *

_EPILOGUE_

“Chin up a little, darling,” Zacharie told the Player, lifting his bloodied mask slightly to smile at them reassuringly. “You’re going home.”

The Batter patted their shoulder. “I’ll see you again, soon.”

Numbly, the Player nodded, and turned to face the panel in the wall, their hands coming up to touch it, as they pointedly tried not to think about the dead body lying not too far away from them.

“Goodbye.” They simply said, their hands reaching for it—


	10. The Player: The True Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third of three endings.
> 
> An ending to end all endings.
> 
> What happened to the Player after the panel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for staying with me through this entire ride; I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm sorry it was delayed, though, the OFF fandom had rather upset me for a while, and I looked for solace in Team Fortress 2 to cheer me up.
> 
> However, now that I'm (sick) (menstruating) (tired) decided to man up and face my depression, I'm proud to present that I've finished this story once and for all! I made it so that it's neutral to both endings.
> 
> This story ended with 71 pages on MS Word. I'm so very proud of this. ♥
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for the love and support. I'm so very thankful of you readers for this.
> 
> To those in Homestuck, like my moirail, congratulations on the update. You guys deserve it. 
> 
> (And before anyone asks, no, I'm not a Homestuck fan. Thank you.)

The first thing the Player’s hands touched was the dusty seat covering of a swivelling chair. Slowly, groaning in exertion, they grappled at everything their hands could reach around them, blindly groping for leverage—to pull them back or out, they weren’t quite sure.

Their hands wrapped around corners, thin, simple, a little coarse, and dusty, but it was more than enough leverage to pull them out of that choking hold of light all around them. Their head pushed forward, light searing even through their closed eyelids as they pulled out of the tiny space, sliding forward into the dusty swivelling chair.

Dust flew into the air, filling it, choking the Player as they coughed in response to all the dust filling their lungs. They crumpled to the ground, wheezing and gasping in exertion as they wrapped their arms around themselves, trying to get a hold on reality, to clear their mind of the mess in it.

There was too much going on—too much sensory input. The world they left behind and the world they entered was both familiar and alien.

_Why? Why, why, why, why?_

Names flashed through their head. Too fast—too many, it _hurt_.

“What’s—going, on,” They gasped, pulling themselves up and opening their eyes to see their bedroom, still as how they left it, only there were yellow police tapes across the door, and flowers at the doorway, fresh ones on top of slightly dying ones, as confusion filled the Player’s head. Flowers? They weren’t there before.

Struggling, they stood up properly and turned around to see that their computer was still functioning—somewhat, it looked rather dilapidated, but the screen was still flickering in and out of clarity, and the Player could make out a handprint against the screen from the inside.

 _Like something—or some_ one _was reaching for them, desperately trying to bring them back_.

They stared at it, dumbfounded for a while, when a thought hit them.

Their room wasn’t like this when they first left it. Sure, it was a little messy, but they would never let it get _this_ dusty. And the flowers, what were those all about?

They looked to see a phone—new, and not theirs, on the desk, and they picked it up, pressing a few keys to see the screen light up.

Their eyes widened.

“No, that can’t be,” they breathed, “It was 20-freaking-13 when I played this game! It can’t be 2019! That’s ridiculous!”

Shaking their head, thinking this was all some grand prank, and that cameramen were about to pop out of nowhere, they rolled their eyes, and dialled their mother’s number.

They immediately spoke up when someone picked up.

“Hey, Mom? Very funny joke, ha-ha. All that dust in my room is going to be _so_ hard to clean up, you know.”

No one spoke up on the other side, and the Player frowned. “… Hello?”

Immediately, the person on the other side hung up, leaving the Player more confused than ever.

“Huh.” They mumbled, turning to face the door to see an old man standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with disbelief, his frail body shaking. They couldn’t recognise the man, his eyes sullen, and deep-set, and _tired_ , but they smiled at him, as relief washed over their senses. “Oh, hey, look, it looks like my family and my friends are playing some weird prank on me; they’re making me think it’s 6 years in the future or something, and—”

They never got to finish, as a gunshot rang through the air, cutting them off. Their eyes widened and their jaw fell lax as they got pushed back by the force of the bullet speeding into their torso, right on target on their heart.

They gaped at the old man, still standing there, his hands shaking with a gun in them, as tears welled up in their eyes.

The floor was turning red.

The man said their name, in a shaky voice, as he dropped the gun like it burned his hand, and their eyes widened upon recognising the man’s voice.

“… Dad.” They breathed, as life began to drain from them.

“I-I’m, I’m so, so—”

“… _Dad_.” The Player gasped one last, time, suddenly deciding that entering that cool, sweet slumber was a most wonderful idea.

The old man, his hands quivering, watched as his child died before him, his eyes wide with tears and regret as he looked at the laptop on the table.

The infernal thing had done this—it had never, ever turned off ever since their child disappeared, never once shut off in all those 6 years they were gone—it was the one who did all this—the one who took away his child.

Eyes hardening, he picked up his gun again, and pointed it at the laptop.

“I am going to _destroy_ you,” he breathed shakily, and he pulled the trigger.

At last, he thought, the damned thing was gone, but so was his dear child. Trembling in despair, he rushed forward and hugged them close to himself, not caring if blood got onto his clothes, as he mourned his loss.

Unbeknownst to him, above his head, the laptop’s screen flickered one last time, with a message, before completely blacking out.

_The world is now OFF._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, yes, I just can't help myself with bad endings. Hope y'all have a good one! :D


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